


All I Need to Cure Me

by Charmian_Life



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Closeted Harry, Closeted Louis, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Forbidden Love, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2019-07-10 14:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 42,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmian_Life/pseuds/Charmian_Life
Summary: Louis and Harry plan a trip together during break, but are sent on separate trips by management; Louis easily agrees to the arrangement and Harry is hurt by Louis lack of devotion to him and their relationship. Harry becomes seriously ill while they are separated and Louis is shocked at the thought of losing him. He ponders making their relationship public.





	1. Separation

"I’m fine,” he says as we walk in, his voice cracking. He shoots a glare my way, but doesn’t meet my eyes. I glance over my shoulder at Paul who gives a brief nod and walks back out, shutting the door behind him. “I said I’m fine!” he huffs, scrunching down into the corner of the overstuffed couch.

“Good,” I say, sliding down next to him, “Makes my job that much easier.” I’ve been working as the boy’s Medical Liaison since their tour started 6 months ago and have gotten to know them pretty well thru a couple of colds, a bit of asthma, a twisted ankle, a bum knee, an aching back and a hangover or two, but looking at Harry today has me truly worried for the first time.

He’s been keeping to himself for the last few days, roughly since Louis left to spend their break time with Eleanor. I knew that Harry and Louis had planned to head to Jamaica and spend a few days together in private, but management had nixed the idea and instead sent Louis all the way to London, making sure he would be well photographed shopping and clubbing with Eleanor, far away from Harry.

Their plan had included sending Harry to various events here in LA with a bevy of ever-changing starlets draped from his arm, making sure he was also well photographed at every turn, but Harry had flatly refused to play along. He was hurt that Louis had given in so easily, and had spent the last few days before they had been separated sulking in demonstration.

Louis had called me mere seconds after he’d finished Face Timing with Harry, riddled with worry over Harry’s depressed state, which was now compounded by his ill health. “Just check on him, please, Carly? He looks so pale and tired, and his voice is really rough. He’s never going to ask for help. Will you please just look in on him, and then call me? I won’t be able to sleep until I know he’s at least talked to you.” And of course I’d said yes.

I’d sent Paul ahead of me; call it a fishing expedition. He came back almost immediately confirming the worst. The thing is, I hadn’t really expected Harry to be this sick. I assumed that Louis was just feeling guilty over leaving him here alone while he partied back home in London, but now, sitting across the couch from him, I could see what had Louis so worked up. Harry’s misery was written all over his face. He shot me a sideways glance and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What did he say?” he asked.

“Who?” I responded.

“You know damn well who! Are you on his side, too?” His tone read angry, his voice gravely, but the tears welling up told a different story. “Louis” he mumbled. “What did Louis say?” he asked, looking down at his lap. “First of all, I don’t really see conflicting sides in this, so I haven’t bothered to pick one. As for Louis, he says you’re grumpy,” I said, reaching up to tuck an errant strand of hair behind his ear, “Not acting your self. He says you look…tired.” “Surprised he noticed,” he sighed, his voice barely above a whisper, a couple of tears breaking loose. He scrubbed his sleeve over his face, his bottom lip trembling. “Anyway, I’m … I’m …”

“Fine,” I filled in. I cupped the side of his face with my hand, catching another tear with my thumb. “So can I have a look?” I asked, and he nodded. I unzipped my bag, pulled out a pen light and unwrapped a tongue depressor. “Open up, Hun,” I said, pulling his chin down with my thumb, “say Ahh.” He flinched as he tried to comply, no sound actually leaving his mouth. I got a quick glimpse of his throat, blood-red and raw, before he pulled away, covering his mouth with one hand, eyes squeezing shut and cheeks flushing.

“It’s fine,” he choked out after a few seconds, “I’ll find some cough drops, gargle with salt water or something.”

“You’re well past cough drops and salt water,” I sighed, turning the penlight off and dropping it into my bag. I tossed the tongue depressor into the trash bin and slid one hand to the back of his neck, massaging gently.

“My guess is Strep at least, and your tonsils look pretty raw as well. Are you congested? How do your ears feel?” He answered with a shrug. I frowned and pulled out my stethoscope, rubbing the metal surface to warm it, then cupped it in my hand and slipped it into the front of his shirt, pressing it to his chest. “Big breath,” I say, and he gives a ragged inhale, then breaks into a wet, chesty cough. “Nice one, kiddo. We’ll be lucky if it’s not pneumonia.” I move the stethoscope around to his back and repeat the process, with him hacking again. I put the stethoscope away and pull the thermometer out of my bag, then reach up and slide it across his forehead pausing at his temple. I’m hardly surprised when I check the reading, “And a 101° fever to go with it. Well done.” He shrugs again.

“What the hell, Harry, why didn’t you say something? Louis has to call from 6,000 miles away to clue me in? Make me look bad, why don’t you.”

“At least he calls you,” he whispers. He pulls his legs up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, resting his head on his knobby knees and curling himself into a ball. His eyes close, but not before I see them filling up with tears again.

“Before you get too worked up, lets remember that he only called _me_ to talk about _you_. He didn’t call to ask if I was enjoying the break, and he’s not exactly tearing up the town, either. He hasn’t managed to hit Ministry of Sound, or any other club, even once, and believe me management has been pushing. He’s got Eleanor cooling her heels in some cheesy hotel bar while he waits to hear back about you. Feel better?”

“No,” he says, face flushing, “No I don’t, actually. I don’t feel better knowing that we’re both miserable.” He sits up, suddenly agitated, tries to stand but then pales with the effort. He sits back down, withering against the back of the couch, frustration giving way to exhaustion, and turns his head to face me. “Look, I don’t expect you to understand. But I would give anything, anything, to sit with him in that cheesy bar, or a restaurant or a movie theater for that matter. Anything to casually hold hands in public or even just go window shopping together without it being treated like a threat to national security. We finally had a chance to spend a few days together, just a few days, and after weeks and weeks of planning and begging and promising, he caves at the first push back.”

He rolls his eyes, then closes them, turning away. He lets his head drop back against the couch as tears begin seeping from the corners of his eyes. I reach for his hand and he lets me take it in mine. I rub my other hand over his shoulder, trying to offer some small comfort. “You’re right, I can’t imagine what it must feel like. But I do know this: I know Louis loves you. I know that your management comes to him rather than you when they want a little show, because he does it better. You’re not exactly convincing when it comes to the girlfriend bit; your time with Taylor was full evidence of that.” He cringes at the reference. “Louis gives a reasonable performance when it comes to faking a relationship. You get pushed into the role of flirt, which management parlays into the idea that you are dating and leading on several women instead of portraying the truth; that you are teasing around with friends who know you are in a devoted relationship. And because he loves you, I think Louis prefers getting stuck with the role of dedicated boyfriend to some snobby attention seeker rather than seeing you portrayed as a heartless womanizer. I really think he does it to protect you and your reputation.”

He sniffs and gives a little nod. I let go of his hand and wrap my arms around him, pulling him closer. He nods again as he rests his forehead on my shoulder. “I’m sorry about all of it. I really am,” I say softly. I slide my hand in gentle circles over his back and feel him slowly relax. After a few minutes he pulls back and leans into the corner of the couch, looking at me forlornly.

“It’s just…..I need him right now, you know? I really am sick. Sick and tired and so fucking lonely. And I can’t even fly home, be with my friends or my mum, because god forbid I get spotted in an airport, or worse, we’re both seen in the same city. Six months from now, someone will notice me in the background of a photo or hear me laugh in some YouTube video and put the timeline together, and I’ll get put on the spot in some interview, having forgotten whatever lie we were supposed to tell.” He grabs the tissue box from the end table. “I guess you’re right. About management picking Louis for this stuff I mean. He’s better at keeping the story straight and acting indignant when someone points out the inconsistencies. As he’s said, I do talk some shit in interviews.” He sighs, wiping his face with a handful of tissues. “It’s just that right now, I don’t care about that. About any of it. I want him. Need him. I want to lay on the couch, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, with my head in his lap watching bad daytime television. I want him to make me lousy tea and burnt toast and rock me in his arms until I can sleep. I want… I need…..” He wipes his eyes once more and tosses the wadded tissues towards the bin. “It doesn’t matter, though, does it? Obviously, that’s not going to happen.” He pulls himself up a little straighter and crosses his arms back over his chest. “So now what?” He asks, resigned.

“Paul’s finding us a clinic to run some labs. I’ll swab your throat and draw some blood and see what we come up with.” He nods and I’m a little concerned that he doesn’t fight me on it. Probably a testament to how lousy he feels.

I start pulling out equipment and he pushes up the sleeves of his hoodie. “Look at your veins, Harry! I bet you’re dehydrated. Are you drinking anything at all?” Another shrug. His usually prominent veins look flat. I tie off a tourniquet and we manage to pump up his arm a bit. I’m use to him cringing and shutting his eyes when I draw his potassium level every 6 weeks, but tonight he merely watches the needle slip in, not even a flinch. I’m lucky and hit the vein on the first attempt, releasing the tourniquet and filling several vials as he watches, sullen. I’m waiting for his usual jokes about my vampiric tendencies but they don’t come. I tape a cotton ball over the hole and bend his arm to staunch any bleeding.

"I need to swab your throat,” I say and he watches again as I pull out my supplies. He opens his mouth and I try to be gentle, but end up hurting him anyway. His tonsils are so raw it’s unavoidable, but I still feel horrible. “Oh Hun, I’m sorry,” I say, when his breath catches. “S’ okay.” He whispers. I carefully package the swab, but the white streaks in his throat have already told me all I need to know. “Have you tried taking anything at all, Hun?” I ask, although I’m pretty sure I already know the answer. Without Louis pushing the issue, he avoids meds like no other. As I suspected, he shakes his head as he leans back into the couch pushing his sleeves back down. “Lets at least work with some Tylenol to lower your fever and help with the throat pain. Let me see what I’ve got for the cough.”


	2. Losing Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis' worry builds in London as Harry gets worse in LA.

I manage to coerce Harry into taking some Tylenol and basic cough syrup and slip him back into bed. He’s still not fighting me on any of it, and my concern is growing with each passing second. He’s barely sipping at the tea I’m trying to force on him, so I leave a cup at the ready on the bedside table.

Paul works his magic and finds a private clinic facility that will work with us. Their lab is running the samples I had previously taken and making arrangements to have a chest x-ray in the adjacent hospital. At this point I’m nearly certain we’re facing a losing battle with pneumonia. My hope is that we’ll be able to manage it without a hospitalization, but every time I hear him cough I know I’m only kidding myself.

I’d been told when I hired on that if anyone was going to be a challenge health-wise, it would be Harry. He has a history of catching every bug do to a poor immune system, compounded by the fact that he insists on hugging every fan he comes in contact with, coughs and sneezes be damned. It’s endearing if you’re not the one trying to keep him on the right side of health.

My cell rings and I snatch it up hoping it’s the local lab with some answers. Instead I’m greeted by a surly Louis. “What the hell, Carly,” he snaps, “I thought you were calling me right back. What the fuck is going on there?!”

“Nice to hear your voice, Louis,” I respond, “I’m trying to work with your boy here. You weren’t kidding – he’s doing pretty poorly.”

“Is it bad?” he asks, and a bit of panic is slipping in to his tone, “I fucking knew it. I never should have left him alone. He looked off that last day but he wouldn’t talk to me. Little shit!”

“Easy boy, I’m working on it. I’m hoping it’s only strep with maybe bronchitis or some other minor chest infection mixed in. I mean, I’m not going to lie to you, Louis. He’s getting more dehydrated by the minute, partly due to the fever and complicated by the fact that he’s barely drinking anything because of the throat pain.”

“Let me talk to him,” he says, “I’ll get him to drink. He’ll listen to me.”

“I’ll take the phone in, but listen, Louis, you’ve got to be smart about this. He’s upset with you and I don’t need a battle of wills between you two. He feels abandoned. He doesn’t think you care about him. Show him your concern and love; don’t make it about doing what you say.”

He sighs and in my head I can see him pulling at his fringe, the way he does when he’s frustrated. My call waiting beeps and I cut him off.

“Hey the lab is calling me. I’ve got to take this. I’ll call you right back, I promise.”

I click over to the call waiting and the lab tech greets me, then begins unloading the results. Not what I hoped for, but sadly what I expected. Harry’s white count is high; there is definitely a serious infection brewing. He’s dehydrated and there is a solid positive strep result from the throat culture. His potassium, as always, is tanking, which will only increase his chest pain.

“If you can come in about 30 minutes the radiology tech said he’d meet you at the side door of the building so you can avoid the ER lobby. They can do a chest series and have it read while you wait. Dr Clay said he would wait and look him over, and suggested that it might be a good idea to start an IV to at least get him started on rehydrating while you wait for the x-ray to be read. Maybe run some antibiotics in as well.”

I call out to Paul in the other room and he takes my phone to get directions from the tech. I walk quietly to Harry’s bedroom door, trying to think of a way to get him to go along with the plan. Maybe just lead in with the x-ray, and not mention the rest right away. How I wish I had Louis’ charm right now.

I tap lightly on the door and slowly slide it open. I had hoped to find him sleeping, but instead find him staring idly out the window. He looks impossibly pale.

“You’ve got a pretty solid infection, Hun,” I say, walking towards the bed, “Paul found us a doctor that can sneak us in for a chest x-ray so we don’t have to go through an emergency room. Can you get dressed? I’ll help.”

He slides the covers off and turns to put his feet on the floor. He starts to stand but falls back and drops his head down, clutching the bedding with one hand and covering his face with the other.

“Are you nauseous?” I ask.

He shakes his head gently, “Just dizzy,” he mumbles.

A glance at the now-cold, untouched tea on the table tells me that the dehydration is probably getting the best of him.

“Stay put,” I say, gently placing one hand on his shoulder, “I’ll grab you some sweats, okay?”

I’m digging thru dresser drawers when Paul appears in the doorway, holding my phone and looking awkward.

“Cars on the way,” he says, “And this call is for you.” He holds out my phone to me, raising his eyebrows and nodding toward Harry. Louis, I’m guessing.

I grab the phone from Paul and toss some sweats on the bed. “Can you help Harry get ready?” I ask.

“Of course,” he answers, bending down in front of Harry, “Feeling pretty rough then, Harry?” He asks, rolling up one pant leg of the sweats I selected and pushing it over his foot. Harry nods, pushing his hair back over his peaked face.

I slip out of the bedroom and pick up my conversation with Louis. “The lab results weren’t good news Louis; I’m sure you’ve guessed. We’re on our way down to the clinic now, going to have the doctor look him over and get a chest x-ray.”

“Then what?” he asks, “ like, what are you thinking? Do you think it’s just an infection? Do you think it’s worse? I mean, what am I doing Carly? Should I head back?”

The voice in my head screams yes, God, please! But I know what it could mean for them. “Let’s wait Louis, let’s wait and see what we find out. I’ll call you as soon as I know something.”

With that, Paul clears the bedroom threshold one arm solidly around Harry’s waist, and the other on his chest. He’s obviously supporting most of his weight as Harry’s feet shuffle under him like a newborn deer.

“Let’s get moving,” Paul says without taking his eyes off of Harry, “I’m not sure how long I can keep him on his feet.”

I end the call quickly and come to Harry’s other side, draping his arm over my shoulders in an attempt to help Paul keep him balanced.

“We’ve got you, Kiddo,” I soothe, as we exit the suite and head to the elevator.


	3. The Clinic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carly and Paul seek help for Harry at a local clinic.

Paul and I struggle thru the hallway, balancing Harry between us. We quickly go from helping him to completely carrying him as he stumbles along, his legs giving out beneath him.

Once we get in the elevator, Paul bends down, trying to talk to him.“Harry, you alright lad?” he asks, “Can you hear me?”

Harry lifts his head, wobbling as he attempts to make eye contact. He pulls his arm off of my shoulder, and reaches up to pull his fringe out of his face, and in that instant starts sliding to the floor. I start to scramble and Paul swoops down, scooping him up bridal style.

“That’s enough of that, I think,” he says to me, and then shifts Harry in his arms for a better grip, “Save your strength, H, I’ve got this.”

We glide thru back hallways and an empty meeting room, until Paul pauses at a side door, and nods to me, “Open it, will you? My hands are pretty full.”

I pull the door ajar and peer out. Dave is standing by one of the cars, holding the back door open. There are no fans or paparazzi hanging around, so I pull the door wide open and Paul tucks Harry in tighter as he turns to get them both out the door and down the small staircase. I follow, and trot around the back of the car as Paul sets Harry in the backseat. I climb in the other side and help Paul slide Harry to the middle as we both murmur words of encouragement and comfort.

Paul climbs in behind Harry and leans toward the front, giving directions to Dave as we clear the hotel parking lot. Harry leans forward, elbows on his knees, his hands buried in his sweaty curls. I slide my hand up the back of his shirt to rub his back and realize his fever is back full force. I curse myself for not convincing him to down a second dose of Tylenol before we left.

“How far is it, Paul?” I ask, rubbing circles into Harry’s sweaty skin.

“Not far,” he replies, “Just a few blocks now. Gonna make it, Lad?” he asks Harry, making an attempt at being light-hearted. Harry nods, but makes no verbal response, except for his very labored breathing. Paul and I share concerned looks over him as he leans back into the seat and presses his head against my shoulder.

Within a few minutes, we pull up to the unmarked doorway of a large brick building. Paul hops out of his side of the car and sprints to the doorway. A young man opens the door and they speak briefly, then he turns away and returns a few seconds later pushing a wheelchair. Dave pulls the car door open as Paul returns, leaning in to talk to Harry.

“What do you think, Harry, can we get you out of the car?” He states, reaching for Harry’s arms.

Harry pulls his head from my shoulder and I help him sit up. The movement sets off a fit of wet coughs, and soon he is choking, unable to catch his breath. Paul waits for him to stop coughing and then we both maneuver Harry out into the wheelchair. He slumps forward, still struggling to breathe. The young man who brought out the wheelchair gets Harry settled and drapes a blanket over him, then swipes his badge on the security panel by the door and leads us down the hall.

The area we are in appears to be closed; luckily we don’t meet up with any other patients or staff. He takes us into a room near the end of the hallway and pulls the wheelchair up to the side of the bed, locks it in place and helps Harry slide over. He hands me a hospital gown and asks if we need help changing him.

“We’ve got it,” I respond, “Thanks so much.”

“Dr Clay should be right in,” he says, exiting the room.

I turn to Harry, who is sitting on the bed, glancing around at the medical posters on the walls, “Thought I was getting an x-ray,” he says, his voice rough from coughing, “What’s all this?”

“I just want him to look you over, Hun,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant, “Just double checking the lab results and all.” He nods, but eyes me suspiciously. We both know I’m a horrible liar.

“Let’s get it over with, then,” he mumbles, “Wanna get back to the hotel. I’m really tired. Just need to sleep.”

“Of course, Love,” I say, starting to remove his sweatshirt, “I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

Paul helps me strip off Harry’s sweatshirt and get the hospital gown fastened. All of the activity sets off more coughing, and we stop several times while he catches his breath.

An older gentlemen knocks and then enters as we’re finishing up. He introduces himself as Dr Clay, and the young man from earlier enters again. “This is Ben, my nurse,” he states, “and you must be Carly.”

“Yes,” I say, shaking his hand, “and this is Paul, Harry’s friend and security guard. They shake hands and Dr Clay reaches for his stethoscope.

“I’d like to listen to your chest, Harry,” he states, rubbing the stethoscope to warm it and sliding it under the hospital gown, pressing it against Harry’s chest, “Can you take a deep breath?” he asks, and Harry struggles to fill his lungs. The effort causes him to choke, gasping between harsh coughs. Dr Clay puts a hand on Harry’s back, turning to Ben and instructing him to bring a nebulizer and some meds. He turns back to Harry as Ben leaves the room.

“Quite a cough you have there, Harry,” he says, his face filled with concern, “I’m going to have Ben give you a breathing treatment. I think we should start and IV so we can give you some Decadron and some antibiotics to fight whatever this infection is. By the looks of your lab work, you could really use the fluids anyway. You look pretty dehydrated. I’ll have the radiology tech come shoot an x-ray in here so we don’t have to move you around so much. Then we’ll talk some more.”

He pats Harry’s back and leaves the room just as Ben hustles back in. Harry looks confused at the flurry of activity and when his eyes meet mine, I see fear building. I quickly pull a chair up to his bedside and give what I hope is a reassuring smile.

Ben pulls the head of the bed up a bit and I start to gently push Harry into a reclining position. He resists at first, but Paul speaks up from his chair against the wall. “It’s alright, Harry, just relax. They’re trying to help you, that’s all. Just lay back now,” he soothes. Harry looks at Paul for a minute and Paul gives him a short nod. He lays back and I take one of his hands in mine, pressing it gently to my cheek and gently stroking his temple with my other hand.

“Breathe, baby,” I coax, “You’ll feel much better soon.”

Ben clips an oximeter to Harry’s finger and frowns when he sees his oxygen level. He sets up the nebulizer and the mask for Harry’s breathing treatment. He slips the mask over Harry’s face and the misty flow of medication begins. He takes Harry hand and turns it, checking his arm for a vein for the IV. He shakes his head.

“You’re really dehydrated,” he says to Harry.

He ties off the tourniquet and cleans a site, missing once before getting the IV in place. Harry tolerates it well, grimacing a little and squeezing my hand. I’m both relieved and impressed with Ben’s skills and concerned with Harry's lack of resistance to the process. Harry’s level of dehydration has increased, and his veins are nearly flat. Ben hangs a bag of fluids and two smaller bags, I assume an antibiotic and the Decadron to help his lungs fight the inflammation.

“Meredith is going to come in and shoot a chest x-ray,” Ben says as he tapes down the IV line. He turns his attention to the IV pump, setting it to start the flow of medications. He rests his hand on Harry's shoulder when he’s finished, “This should help you feel much better,” he reassures, and then gathers his supplies and leaves the room.

As he exits, a young woman enters pushing a portable x-ray machine. She introduces herself and sets up her equipment, then ushers Paul and I out into the hallway. I take the opportunity to call Louis, who answers on the first ring.

“We’re at the clinic,” I explain, not bothering with pleasantries, “He’s getting an x-ray and they’ve started an IV and breathing treatment.”

“How is he doing, tho?” Louis asks, “I mean, is it helping? What does the doctor say, is it pneumonia, or what?”

“It’s been 10 minutes, Louis, I don’t have a prognosis yet,” I explain, “I think he’s a little freaked out, and he was pretty weak when we walked out to the car. Like, Paul carried him weak. Look, when I know more, you’ll know more.”

“Shit,” he spits out, “see if he’ll talk to me. I’ll be good, no pressure. Please.”

“I’ll try,” I say, but I’m thinking letting Louis work him up might not be the best thing for either of them, “I’ll call you back. Go have a drink or something. Join El in the bar.”

“Not bloody likely,” he says, hanging up.

The door opens and the x-ray tech - is it Meredith – pushes her equipment out. “You can go back in,” she offers, “We’ll get this read in a few minutes.

I nod and grab the door, Paul following close behind me. Harry’s laying, eyes closed, on the cot, his treatment mask off and in his lap, replaced by oxygen thru a nasal cannula.

“Breathing any better?” I ask softly, returning to my chair by the bed.

Harry’s eyes flutter open and he struggles to sit up straighter, “Are we done then?” he murmurs, brushing the hair from his face.

“Hold up, buddy,” Paul says, “Lets get some results first. Besides, I need to rest my arms for the long hallway back! You’re a little heavier than I remembered.”

Harry nods and closes his eyes again. He reaches out without looking and I take his hand inbetween mine. I hope Louis forgives me, but I just can’t stress him out with a call right now.


	4. Diagnosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry refuses to stay in the hospital, and Louis decides to retun to help.

Harry dozes lightly while we wait, the oxygen humming softly. As the IV fluids rehydrate him, his color slowly returns bit by bit. I stroke his cheek and find his fever still burning, however, and his breathing is still congested and labored. Obviously he is still struggling.

Ben enters a few times, checking Harry’s oxygen level and temperature and making adjustments to his IV drips. Harry shifts a few times but never really wakes.

Paul comes and goes from the room, making calls to management and one to Harry’s mother, Anne. Neither of us relished that particular call, but I knew she would be angry later if she found out we had kept it from her.

It takes about an hour before Dr. Clay re-enters the room with a handful of paper and a concerned look on his face. I gently wake Harry as the doctor pulls a rolling stool up to the bed. Harry tries his best to be polite. He smiles and sits up taller as the doctor straightens out the papers and begins going over the test results.

“Well, Harry, this is what I’m seeing,” he begins, “You’ve got bilateral lower lobe pneumonia, worse on the left than on the right, complicated by your asthma. These together are restricting your oxygen flow, due to the swelling in your airway. You also have a pretty serious case of strep, which is further irritating your airway. I think continued IV antibiotics, combined with oxygen, will turn things around for you.”

Harry looks confused. “Continued? How will we continue this at the hotel?” He asks, “I mean, we can’t take all this back there…”

“Oh no, Harry,” Dr. Clay explains, “I’m saying we will admit you. Just for two or three days, four tops I would imagine. You’re young and otherwise healthy, and I’m sure…”

As Dr. Clay continues, Harry begins shaking his head, and finally speaks,  "No. I can’t stay. No.”

“Harry, I really can’t recommend you go home. This level of illness just isn’t manageable outside of the hospital. It wouldn’t be safe,” Dr. Clay says, trying to be kind but obviously very concerned.

“Thank you for everything,” Harry says, trying to sit up.

“Harry,” Paul starts to stand up from his seat by the wall, “I really think..”

But again Harry interrupts, “No. I won’t stay. I won’t.” He pulls the oxygen off and swings his legs off the bed, immediately breaking into thick, chesty coughs.

“Hun,” I say, reaching for his arm, “I’m not sure I can take care of you at the hotel.”

“Then I won’t ask you to,” he chokes out, pulling away from me, “I’ll take care of myself.” He starts pulling on the tape that is securing his IV line, and I grab his hand,

“Harry stop! Stop it now. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I’m a grown person,” he says, trying to raise his voice but instead causing it to crackle painfully, “its my choice, and I’m not staying.” He starts to struggle with the IV again. I turn to look at Paul and he shakes his head.

“Alright, Harry,” he says, “but at least let Carly unhook that. You’re a musician, not a nurse.” Harry stops pulling at the tape and sticks his arm out in my direction.

I take Harry’s arm in my hands and slowly begin pulling up the tape, hoping Dr. Clay will say something to change Harry’s mind.

“I suppose we can try to arrange to have Home Health come in, set up oxygen and maybe an IV pump. I’m not condoning it, mind you. I think it’s a horrible idea; dangerous at best, but if you absolutely won’t stay, it’s better than nothing at all.”

Harry nods, still focused on his arm. “Thank you,” he says softly, “I appreciate your efforts, I do, and I’m sorry if I wasted your time.”

“It wasn’t a waste of time, Harry, but I really feel you’re making a poor decision here. You’re right, of course, its your choice, tho. We’ll do the best we can for you, within the limitations you’ve set.”

I finish removing Harry’s IV and get his sweatshirt on while Paul and Dr. Clay make arrangements for the delivery of home health equipment. After several calls, we find that nothing can be started until morning. Dr. Clay agrees to let us take an oxygen tank from his office and gives me strict orders to call at any time if things get worse.

We get Harry situated back in a wheelchair and covered with a blanket, more for disguise than warmth, as his fever is keeping him plenty warm. He shakes hands with Dr. Clay and thanks him, and repeats the process with Ben when we get to the car.

Once we are all in the car and headed back to the hotel, I turn and wrap my arm around Harry’s shoulders. He leans into me as I hug him, exhaling a shaking breath. “I’m sorry,” he says, wiping his face with his hand, “I’m not trying to be a pain. I just can’t stay there alone. You know. I need..”

“Oh hey,” Paul says, patting Harry’s knee, “We wouldn’t just leave you there! You should know that.”

“He means Louis,” I say to Paul, “he needs Louis.” Harry nods into my shoulder, a soft sob breaking free.

We pull up at the side door of the hotel, and Paul and I decide that I will help Harry back to his room while Paul unloads the oxygen and home nebulizer equipment Dr. Clay sent with us. Harry feels slightly better after the limited fluids and medication he received, and states he can get back to the room with out as much help.

Getting him down the winding halls and up the elevator is a challenge, but I finally get him to the door. The exhaustion is starting to take over, and he’s a getting more unsteady on his feet, so I lead him through the door of the suite and try to guide him to his bedroom.

He comes to an abrupt stop in the doorway and I’m a little confused, wondering if he’s nauseous or losing his balance, and suddenly he gasps. I look around him towards the bed and can see that maid service has been there, changing the bedding and turning down the bed for his return. I’m confused as to why he’s upset and he is immediately sobbing, so he can’t explain it to me.

“No, no, no,” he chokes out.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” I say, still trying to keep him balanced. His hands fly to his face, wiping his eyes in disbelief. I struggle to get him moving forward, and when we get to the bed, he refuses to sit down.

“You’ve got to sit, Harry,” I say, “You’re going to fall down, Honey. The fever is making you dizzy; come on let’s get you off your feet.” And just like that, he collapses on the bed.

I’m still so confused; I don’t understand what’s wrong and then he finally gets it out.

“They’ve ruined it,” he sobs, “They’ve taken it all away. I had his scent at least, in the sheets, on the pillow, and they’ve taken it all away.” He’s curling into a little ball, and I’ve never felt so useless in my life.

“Oh honey,” and I try to think of something calming and soothing to say, but it all just leaves me when I see his face. “Let's get you under the covers, sweetheart. You’ll feel better when you get some rest.” I reach for his feet and pull off his boots and socks. He seems completely disinterested in the process.

“Can you sit up? Let’s get your sweatshirt off.” He sits up, still hunched over, and I manage to pull his sweatshirt over his head. “Is it okay if I take off your sweatpants, hun? He stands up a little and I slip my hand under the waistband and slide them down. “Do you want to sleep in your pants?” I say but he doesn’t answer, he just sits down and flops back over on his side. I tuck his feet under the blankets and pull the duvet up over his shoulders but he’s still just staring into space. The tears have stopped flowing but he looks just as miserable as he did when he was crying.

“Just stay here love, please.” I tuck the blankets around him a little tighter, “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to get you some water.” He remains silent and makes no gesture that would tell me he understands, but I stand up and walk out into the living area anyway.

I dial the familiar number again and Louis answers on the first ring. “What’s happening?” He asks, “Are you home? What did they say?”

“Well, here’s a conversation I never thought I’d have with you Louis.” I say, “Did you leave any laundry behind? Like a t-shirt that you’ve slept in or a hoodie that you’ve worn?”

“What the hell are you talking about, Carly?” He answers. “Laundry Louis. Dirty Laundry? Something that smells like you. Somehow the damn maid service didn’t get the memo, and they changed the bedding while we were gone and removed the magical healing scent of you.”

“Shit,” He responds. There’s silence for a moment and then he says, “You know what? There’s an old blanket in the closet. I was sleeping on the couch with it the last few days before I left. Don’t ask.”

“I’d never dream of asking,” I say, “Now, which blanket, and in what closet?”

“In the bedroom closet,” he says, “The one at the foot of the bed. It’s that old blue and white blanket. He has that matching pink and white one? Kind of a kids blanket, a plush thing,” He explains.

“Fantastic,” I say, “I think you just saved my life. I’m sure we’ll be calling you in a few minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting,” He says.

I move quietly back into the bedroom and go to the closet Louis directed me to. The blanket is tossed onto a shelf next to the towels, and I could practically cheer. I shake it open and walk over to the bed, kneeling on the floor when I reach Harry’s face. “Will this help? I say softly, and his eyes start to open. I rub a corner of the soft fabric against his tear-stained cheek. His eyes pop the rest of the way open and he wraps both arms around it, hugging it close like a long-lost friend, burying his face in it as deeply as he can. He nods a little and his shoulders tremble.

“He really wants to talk to you,” I whisper, stroking the hair back from his temple. He shudders and buries his face deeper in the blanket. “I think it would help you both,” I try again. He finally pulls the blanket away from his face, his eyes swollen, cheeks streaked with tears and frustration.

“Okay,” he mumbles, and closes his eyes. I quickly dial in the number and Louis once again immediately responds.

“Hey Lou,” I say, “somebody wants to talk to you.” I turn the phone for Harry, and he immediately wells up at the sight of Louis.

“Oh Baby,” Louis croons softly, and Harry’s tears break free. “It’s all right, Love,” Louis soothes, “I’m on my way. Just hold on for me, be good, and I promise I’ll be there soon.’

“No, Lou, you can’t leave. It’s alright,” Harry chokes out, doing his best to put on a brave face, “I can handle it.”

“Already done, Love, I’ve chartered a plane. Just rest, mind Carly, and I’ll be there before you know it.” Louis voice is soft but decisive, and Harry nods, closing his eyes and relaxing fully into the pillows for the first time since we’ve come home, the blanket still clutched in his hands. I take the phone and leave the room as quietly as possibly, slipping the door shut behind me.

“He really needed to be admitted, Louis,” I say, “but he just wouldn’t do it. It’s the first time I’ve really seen that stubborn streak. He wasn’t having it.”

“I’m familiar with that streak,” Louis says, running a hand down his tired face.

“What are you telling the management boys about this little foray?" I ask. “Not a fucking thing,” he says, eyeing me up thru the screen, “and don’t you say anything either. It’s my fucking money, my time, they can fuck themselves for all I care.”


	5. Crashing Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis flies home as Harry becomes critical

Paul comes through the door with the oxygen tank, nebulizer equipment and a bag from the pharmacy just as I am about to rip into Louis for even thinking I would divulge his plan.

"Paul’s brought me Harry’s oxygen, so I’ve got to get back to the bedroom and set it up. Can you tell him about your travel plans so we can get this rolling? And, oh yeah, kiss my ass, you should know I’d never tell on you,” I shoot back. 

"Listen,” he says, his voice low, “You wouldn’t believe the long list of people who have screwed us over. Longtime friends, even family that have sold us out for quick pound or 10 minutes of fame. So excuse me for being a little skeptical when it comes to loyalty.”

"Sorry to hear it, Louis, but I can’t help being a little offended. After all, if I was so inclined I could have cashed in on you two a million times by now. The pictures in my phone alone would make me enough to retire. So let’s get back on the same team here.”

I hand the phone to Paul and grab the oxygen tank and kit and head back into the bedroom. Harry is pretty much in the same position I left him in; curled up against a stack of pillows, Louis’ blanket clutched to his chest.

“Hey Darlin,” I say quietly as I approach the bed, “Lets get you sorted out with this oxygen and propped up a little so you can breathe better.”

Harry struggles to pull himself to a sitting position. His face is already paling and a sheen of sweat is forming across his forehead. I quickly restack the pillows and grab a couple more from the closet. I need to prevent him from laying flat to help his breathing. I pull the nasal cannula from the package and attach it to the oxygen tank, set the flow according the Dr. Clay’s instructions and turn back to Harry. It’s obvious that he’s struggling to breathe again, but it’s too early for another breathing treatment. I get the prongs in place in his nostrils, run the tubing behind his ears and finally get him reclined and as comfortable as possible against the pillows just as Paul comes in.

“Okay, we’re all set,” Paul states, setting the nebulizer on the nightstand, “It’s a 12 hour flight from London to Los Angeles, with one fuel stop. Louis is determined to leave within the hour, and one of the drivers will pick him up here when they get in. They’re flying into John Wayne Airport. Slightly longer drive getting back here to the hotel compared to LAX, but he’ll be less likely to get papped or spotted by fans. How’s that sound, H?”

Harry gives a slight nod. He’s making an effort to pull in deep breaths, but seems to be struggling more and more, even with the oxygen on. I’m trying to keep my concerns low key, but my worries must be apparent as Paul tunes in right away.

“I think I’ll sleep down here tonight,” he says, “Just in case you need help with anything. Better to have two of us nearby, extra set of hands and all. I’ll take one of the recliners, and pull the other one in here for you.”

I decline the offer of the recliner as I don’t really plan on sleeping. I pull one of the bedroom chairs closer to the bed and run to the kitchen to make tea for Harry. He still hasn’t managed to drink much of anything, and I don’t want to lose ground with his hydration battle.

I hear him coughing as I wait for the kettle. His cough is quickly turning into thick, wet fits that sound more like choking. I scurry back and find him bent forward, one arm across his chest and the other hand at his throat. His eyes are watering, from the throat pain and efforts to breathe, I’m sure. Dr. Clay had decided against cough syrup, as it’s better to cough up the phlegm then suppress it. He had given Harry a lower-level pain reliever for his throat, so I dig in the bag of supplies on the night table to find the bottle. Harry opens his eyes and I hand him the cup of tea, then open the bottle and pour out a couple of tablets.

“Here, Hun,” I say, dropping the tablets into his hand.

“What are they?” he asks.

"They’ll help with the pain, and maybe help you get a little sleep,” I coax. I’m ready for our usual argument about medication, but he pops the tablets in his mouth and does his best to swallow them without a grimace.

He sets the tea on the nightstand and grabs a hairband. After a couple of attempts to gather his hair he drops his arms for a moment to catch his breath.

“Let me,” I say, pulling the band off of his wrist. I gather his curls, now damp with sweat, and manage to make the messiest of messy buns, high enough that he won’t be bothered by it when he lays back.

“Thanks,” he says sleepily.

"Well, I’m no Lou Teasdale, but its good enough for bedroom hair.”

He gives me a tired smile, then closes his eyes. I turn off the lights leaving only a small bedside lamp set on its dimmest setting. Harry’s breathing slows, and I hear the door creak open. Paul glances in, surveys the scene and gives me a thumbs up. I nod and he disappears back into the sitting area.

I pull out my phone and scroll idly thru social media. I open Twitter and find photos of Louis and Eleanor from a few minutes before, leaving a convenience store, Starbucks in hand. Louis is carrying a couple of bags. He’s gotten good at this game after a couple years of practice. You don’t get papped unless you want to; that’s what Niall always says. This carefully-planned excursion is just the distraction they need. This puts him firmly in London with Eleanor casually strolling through shops. No one will be expecting to see him in an LA airport in a few hours.

Harry sleeps fairly well for the first hour, no doubt completely exhausted. Shortly after the one hour mark, he wakes himself coughing and sputtering. His hand touches the oxygen tubing and he panics, clawing at it.

“Choking… me…!” he gasps.

I grab his hand, “No, Harry, Honey, look, look at me, it’s just oxygen, remember? It’s helping you!”

He looks around, dazed, and finally meets my eyes. His hands still and he nods, even as the coughing starts again. I check the time and decide it’s close enough to the time for another breathing treatment. Harry watches as I set up the nebulizer and mask. I switch the nasal cannula from the oxygen to a mask and start the misty flow of albuterol. I hold his hand, stroking his arm while he breathes in the medicine. After a few minutes, the treatment ends and I remove the mask and replace the oxygen. His coughing has stopped, at least for the moment.

“Can you try and get some more sleep?” I say, smoothing some stray strands of hair away from his face, “just close your eyes for a bit?”

He shakes his head as his eyes well up with tears, “Scared,” he manages to say, before a sob breaks free. He covers his face with his arm, but I pull it away, pulling him into my arms instead.

“It’s alright, Harry, “ I soothe, gently rubbing his back. He rests his head on my shoulder, crying silently, “of course you’re frightened, Hun. You’re so sick and just exhausted, Baby! And I know how much you miss Louis. But he’s on his way, yeah? Coming just as fast as he can get here. You just have to hold on a little longer.”

I softly rock him back and forth in my arms as he cries himself to sleep. I feel him start to relax, his sobs turning to hiccups, and I lay him back into the pillows, wiping his tears with my shirt sleeve. His eyes flutter as his hands find Louis’ blanket and pull it to his chest. It’s mere minutes before his coughing starts again. The nebulizer treatments seem to be having little effect and even the constant oxygen flow is hardly helping. I know I’m fighting a losing battle and a quick check of my watch tells me that Louis will have barely taken off from London. We’re going to have to take some sort of action before he gets here, and the hardest part will be convincing Harry to do so.

I decide to go to the kitchen and make Harry some fresh tea since the other has chilled sitting untouched on the bedside table. I pick up his cup and mine and walk to the kitchen tiptoeing so as not to wake a sleeping Paul in the sitting room. Paul left the TV running at low volume, it’s screen the only light in the room.

I slip into the kitchenette and run water for the kettle trying to think to myself what I will say to convince Harry to at least go back to see the doctor. I fill the kettle but before I can turn it on I hear a sound from the bedroom. I set the kettle on the countertop and walk into the sitting room.

Paul is already awake sitting up in the chair and facing toward the bedroom. “Is that Harry?” He asks, and quickly stands.

We both move to the doorway, and by the time I cross into the bedroom I am nearly at a run. Harry is sitting up, hunched over in the bed, clutching his chest with one hand. He’s choking and sputtering for breath, the stridor filling the room with every short inhale he manages. His chest is retracting into his ribs with every breath and yet he doesn’t seem to be pulling in any air despite his efforts. I quickly sit on the edge of the bed, trying to adjust the oxygen though I know it will be useless if his lungs can’t pull it in. Up close to his face like this, I also note that his lips are starting to get a bluish tinge. In my heart I know there isn’t any other option.

“Paul, call 911. Then call the front desk and let them know we’re expecting them. Have Dave get a car ready,” I instruct.

Bless Paul, he doesn’t question me, never asks me if I am sure. He just makes the necessary calls and pulls the arrangements together. I lift Harry’s chin, tilting his head back, trying to open his airway a bit. He fights me for a moment but is unable to put much effort into it.

“Help is coming Harry,” I say, “Just keep breathing for me Honey.” He tries to speak but can’t manage to do so. “Don’t talk, Harry, just breathe.”

He seems to recognize my voice, and clutches at the side of my shirt. Paul waits for the ambulance crew in the hallway, and usher’s them in as soon as they arrive. I step back as they assess Harry, replacing our oxygen with their own more efficient mask. I give them a brief history of his diagnosis and what we’ve done so far. They load him on to their gurney, but he is unable to tolerate lying down even for a moment, so he ends up still sitting up, hunched over, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“One of you can ride with him,” the older paramedic states.

“You go,” Paul answers, “I’ll be right behind you. Meet you there, alright, Harry?” But Harry doesn’t seem to hear him or respond.

It’s 3 a.m. here in Los Angeles, but there is still a small crowd of fans waiting outside the hotel. They scream as soon as we clear the doors and they recognize Harry.

We are saved by Paul’s quick thinking, as a small detail of our security is already waiting outside and clears us a path. Harry is quickly loaded into the back of the ambulance and I jump in after. I note that a few flashes continue even after the doors are shut and we are speeding away.

The trip to the hospital is thankfully short, and I listen as the paramedic calls report ahead of our arrival. He tells them that Harry oxygen is in the high 70s and low 80s. He adjusts the oxygen flow at their instruction, but it makes no difference in his saturation readings.

There is a medical team waiting in the ambulance bay as we pull in. They quickly unload Harry and run down the hall with him into a room marked Critical Care. A nurse tries to stop me from entering, but the paramedic pulls me in and asks me to give them his history. Several nurses surround the bed, adjusting him into position, searching his arms for IV sites and placing an O2 monitor on his finger. Two IV sites are quickly established, although Harry doesn’t even seem to notice the needle pokes.

More equipment, including a portable x-ray machine, are rolled into the room. Everything is moving quickly, as it has too. I’m glad I have some knowledge of the process, or I would be terrified. I hope Harry won’t remember it.

The doctor takes his position at the head of Harry’s bed as they lay him back. He adjusts Harry’s head on the specialized cot as the nurses attach EKG patches to his chest.

“I’m going to put a tube in your throat to help you breathe, Harry. You’ll be sedated, asleep, while we do it, so you won’t feel it,” he explains.

The paramedic nudges me toward the bed, and I gratefully take Harry’s hand, “I’m right here, Hun,” I say, and he clings to me tightly. The doctor calls for sedation, and within seconds, Harry’s hand goes limp in mine.

The oxygen mask is removed as a nurse lines a light up to shine in Harry’s face. She suctions Harry’s mouth and throat as the doctor unpackages the laryngoscope. I wince as he inserts it in Harry’s mouth, but he seems confident.

“I’ve got a clear view of his vocal chords,” the doctor states, seeming to sense my apprehension, “moving forward.”

He takes the endotracheal tube the nurse is offering and begins inserting it. It seems to go in smoothly; no resistance. Once he is satisfied with the placement, he attaches it to the respirator and begins adjusting the settings. The x-ray tech moves in and shoots an x-ray to confirm placement. The nursing staff settles Harry on the cart, getting a hospital gown on him as best they can, covering him with warm blankets, further securing his IVs, drawing blood and placing a catheter.

The doctor slides two rolling stools over to me, offering me one and sitting on the other. He introduces himself as Dr. Walsh, a Trauma Specialist.

“His oxygen level is coming right up,” he states, indicating the monitor reading, “and the tube went in quite smoothly. No reason to think we’ve hurt his vocal chords in any way. We’ll verify the placement and get him moved to ICU. Any questions?”

I shake my head. The x-ray tech returns and turns a computer screen on near the wall, pulling up Harry’s x-ray. Dr. Walsh rolls over and reviews it.

“The placement is perfect, you can breathe now, too,“ he smiles, “But his lungs are really filling up. He wouldn’t have lasted much longer at home. This was the right move.”

He leaves to go review the images and Dr. Clay’s notes from earlier, and write admission orders. Most of the staff are leaving the room when Paul enters and joins me at Harry’s bedside.

Suddenly, I find my own tears making their presence known.

“I should have made him stay before, Paul. I should have found a way to convince him,” I cry.

“It wasn’t going to happen,” Paul assures me, “I was there too, remember? He wasn’t going to do it, just wasn’t having it. There was nothing you could have done.”

“I should have tried harder. His vocal chords, what if we’ve ruined his voice?” I say.

"The doc said it went well, great, even. Nothing to worry about! You’re worrying yourself for nothing. I know it.”

He rests his hand on my shoulder. “I left a message for Louis. They were already in the air, so I couldn’t call him. He’ll probably get it at their fuel stop. I didn’t really tell him everything, just that we were at the hospital. I’ll pick him up myself and break the news on the way here.”

A woman in a white jacket enters, and introduces herself as Lila, the House Supervisor. She asks me for any other authorized contact information and I give her Harry’s mother and sister’s names and phone numbers. It occurs to me now that at some point we will have to call their management. I will not break their trust and say anything about Louis, so I will have to dance carefully around that topic.

She tells us Harry will be admitted to their Intensive Care Unit, at least until he can be safely extubated. She asks Paul to speak with their security staff, to let them know of any additional needs we may have. She assures us both that Harry’s care and privacy will not be compromised. As she leaves, a small entourage of staff enter to move Harry and all of his equipment to the ICU.

Paul and I move out of the way, and He puts his arm around my shoulders as we follow them down the hall.


	6. Louis Arrives in ICU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is placed in Intensive Care and Louis arrives.

The ICU nurses transfer Harry to a room at the end of their Hall. I’m grateful for the fact that it seems quite private. Once he is moved to the bed there, all of his various tubes are carefully arranged and checked. There are more adjustments to the respirator and IV drip, and another small bag of antibiotics is added.

Watching the respirator is both relieving and terrifying. I’m certainly grateful that it is helping him breathe, but I’m aware that the longer he is on the respirator, the more damage there could be to his lungs and vocal cords. He remains sedated, and looks so much younger and smaller lying here.

After a few minutes, a woman joins us and introduces herself as Dr. Khan. She’s the pulmonologist who will be consulting, and Dr. Clay is apparently Harry primary doctor here.

"I don’t know if they mentioned it in the ER, she says, “They may not even have noticed, but he also has two cracked ribs on the left side which was probably making it difficult for him to take deep breaths. He most likely damaged them coughing. Once he’s extubated, we can have him hold a pillow over his chest when he coughs or deep breathes. We’ll have to really encourage him to breathe deeply so that his lungs don’t become compromised again.”

“Do you have an idea of how long he will be intubated?” I ask.

“He’s already responding well to the medication,” she answers, “But it’s difficult to say. At least until the majority of the swelling has gone out of his throat and he can maintain his airway on his own. He needs to be able to keep his oxygen level up as well. We’ll take it as it goes, but leave him intubated at least thru the day today to give his body a chance to rest,” she responds. She moves to the head of his bed, checking the settings on the respirator and IV pump. I watch as she makes notes and then bids me goodbye and leaves the room.

Paul has gone out to make phone calls again to Anne and to management. I know soon management will expect to hear from me, and I’m still trying to figure out exactly what to say.

My biggest concern, other than Harry, is what to say to Louis, and how he is going to react to all this. His love for Harry isn’t the problem. I don’t think anyone who has ever seen them together could doubt that. But their young love has always been the sort of playful, teasing love you would expect from a couple their age. Even with the challenges they have faced from being closeted, I doubt they have ever faced anything as serious as this health crisis is proving to be. I hope that I can convince Louis to be as gentle and patient as he will need to be to help Harry.

A quick check of the clock tells me he should be landing in about 8 hours. I hope I can think of a way to express it by then.

The rest of the night and early morning moves slowly by. I send Paul home to get some rest and ask him to bring a few things back when he returns. I hold Harry’s hand, stroke his hair, and reassure him that Louis will be here soon. He doesn’t stir.

A tech from the ER stops by with a bag marked “Patient Belongings.” Inside I find the furry blue and white blanket Louis had directed me to. I didn’t even realize he had it with him. The one thing he held on to when his very breath was being pulled from his lungs. I lay it gently under his other hand. I lay my head down on the bed by his arm and suddenly wake to Paul carefully shaking my shoulder.

“Brought you some clean clothes and such,” he says, handing me a bag, “There’s a nurses’ locker room down the hall. They said you could use the shower there.”

“Harry – I don’t want him to be alone,” I glance back at the bed.

“I’ll stay with him,” Paul says, glancing fondly at Harry’s still figure, “maybe get yourself some tea down in the cafeteria. Then I’ll head to the airport to get Louis.”

I make a quick check of the clock and head down to the locker room. A nurse at the desk directs me to towels and I make quick work of washing my hair and dressing. I head down to the cafeteria and get tea for Paul and myself, and a snack for Paul. My appetite is limited to an apple.

When I return, I find some new security staff by our end of the hall. They question me until Paul comes out and introduces me.

“Did something happen?” I ask him, passing over the tea and food I brought him.

“No, just a pre-emptive strike on my part,” he responds, sipping his tea, “ There were a few fans outside the hotel when we came thru to the ambulance last night, and I’m sure they’re working hard to narrow down which hospital we’re at.”

I love this man’s protective nature. “He hasn’t moved,” Paul states.

“No, he won’t. They have him sedated so he doesn’t gag on the tube. I talked to his specialist last night and she said they would consider removing it tonight if he can breathe well enough on his own. I’m hoping Louis will be here by then to keep him calm,” I say.

“That’s a thought,” Paul smirks, giving a little laugh, “Louis keeping Harry calm. Talk about a role reversal.”

Paul leaves to pick up Louis as I settle in closer to Harry. As I take his hand, I feel his fingers twitch. I freeze, wanting to make sure I’m really feeling it. His other hand clutches slightly at the blanket from home, and his eyelids flutter. I press the nurse call light and stand, leaning over his face and whispering in his ear.

“Shhh, lay still, Harry. You’re okay,” I start, but he starts moving a little more. The nurse enters and sees the issue as he starts to lift his hand. I take it in mine and continue soothing him softly, “No, Hun, just lay still please.”

He’s too weak to struggle much, and still mostly sedated, but all that could change if the sedation lifts too much. The nurse retreats quickly, then returns just as Harry’s eyes start to open. She injects a medication into his IV line and his eyes flutter shut.

“Sleep on, Sweet Prince,” she jokes, then turns to me, “Dr. Khan is going to stop in soon,” she adds, “But really, it’s a good thing. He’s getting stronger. Fighting the tube.”

I nod and smile, and then return my attention to Harry. I rearrange his curls on the pillow, pull his blankets up and run my hand up and down his arm. “Louis will be here soon love,” I say, “You’re doing so well; you’ve been so brave. Just hang in a little bit longer.”

I sit back down at his bedside holding his hand and continuing to stroke his arm. It’s another 30 minutes before I hear the sliding door behind me crack open again. I glance and see Paul and then behind him Louis. He’s wearing a sweatshirt with the hood up, and a baseball cap on underneath. He’s got the sleeves pulled down to hide his tattoos. He takes off his sunglasses, and I can tell by his huge rubbed-red eyes that Paul has told him more about Harry’s condition. I stand and walk over to give him a hug, but he’s out of my arms immediately and over to Harry. I follow behind him and then move to the opposite side of the bed, watching as his face searches Harry’s.

He gently bends down and kisses Harry’s forehead. “Now what’s all this?” he says, his voice low and raspy, “Playing Sleeping Beauty on me?” He teases, “I always said you were a princess.” He looks at me, confused when Harry doesn’t respond.

“He’s sedated, Louis,” I explain, “They’re keeping him asleep so the machine can breathe for him without him choking or fighting it. But the doctor’s coming soon, and they might remove it because he was trying to breathe on his own earlier.”

Louis nods at me, then returns his attention back to Harry. He takes in the ventilator and the tube, looks at his IVs, glances at the cardiac monitor beeping out the rhythm of his lover’s heart, then begins adjusting the blankets. He notices the blanket from home and his eyes tear up.

“Why did you bring that thing” he asks.

“I didn’t,” I respond, “I didn’t even realize he had it. The tech from the emergency room brought it up. Apparently he had it clutched in his hand when the ambulance loaded him.”

Louis shakes his head, “I didn’t realize... I mean I never would have left him if I had known… God,” he chokes out, and then a tear trickles down his face.

“Don’t beat yourself up Louis,” I respond, “Don’t. None of us knew. He kept it a pretty good secret. And he’s doing a lot better now. He seems to be improving pretty quickly. I’m just glad you’re here.”

If I was worried about Louis being too playful with Harry or not understanding the severity of the situation, I need not have been. Watching the way he touches Harry, smoothing his hair, caressing his hand and gently kissing his forehead and cheeks is like watching a mother with a newborn baby. He continues to speak to him softly, I’m starting to feel like I should leave them to have these intimate moments when Dr. Khan comes in. I introduce Louis, who stands and shakes her hand.

I only give his name, not sure how much information is appropriate, but Louis proudly states, “I’m Harry’s fiancee.”

Dr. Khan nods and smiles, then begins checking Harry’s various drips, giving special attention to the respirator readings. “I understand Harry started to rouse earlier,” she addresses to no one in particular.

“Yes,” I respond, “I was holding his hand, and he started to wiggle his fingers, then raised his arm and his eyes started to flutter.”

“I think we’ll do another chest x-ray just to make sure he hasn’t developed any more issues, and then I’ll consider removing him from the vent,” she says.

She turns to Louis now and addresses him directly, “I assume Carly has given you some information about Harry’s condition?”

“Some,” Louis says, though truthfully we haven’t really discussed much.

“He has pneumonia in both lungs, and strep. His breathing was complicated by his asthma, and became much more serious than it should have because he refused admission earlier,” she glances my way, “I don’t think you can really blame your medical advisor. Dr. Clay noted that she attempted to convince him to come in and he refused.”

"No one is blaming Carly, least of all me,” Louis states, and Paul nods his agreement.

Dr. Khan nods her understanding and continues, “He has two cracked ribs, probably from the strong coughing, which will make it more difficult for him to breathe deeply and continue to cough to clear his lungs. We can give him some pain medication, but not as much as I would like to as it would suppress his breathing. He can hold a pillow or folded blanket over the damaged ribs – that will help also. We’ll keep him as comfortable as we can, but he’ll need some encouragement to work through the pain.”

Louis swallows hard, “I understand.”

“If the x-ray looks okay, we’ll try extubating. We’ll wake Harry up a bit, then deflate the cuff in his throat that is holding the vent and observe him for a few minutes to make sure he can breathe appropriately and maintain his oxygen level. If he can, we’ll remove the tube and replace it with oxygen. Removing the tube can be painful, especially over his sore throat, and he may be confused, so we may need to hold his hands down to keep him from grabbing at the tube or accidently pulling on the IV lines. Then we’ll want him to rest his throat – speaking very little if at all, and very softly. It’s possible that the tube could damage his vocal chords, although the intubation was documented as going smoothly. If we can get it out as smoothly, all the better. Any questions?”

I feel like I could see Louis’ head spin if I watched closely, but he shakes his head. “Let’s do it,” he says.

Dr. Khan makes a few more notes, then shakes Louis’ hand again and leaves. A few minutes pass before the portable x-ray machine is rolled in and we are escorted into the hallway. Paul throws Louis’ sweatshirt at him to keep him unrecognized and within a few minutes we are back in the room.

Louis resumes his vigil at Harry’s side, taking his hand and speaking to him softly, repeating what the doctor has said, even though Harry is still sedated. He touches Harry as if he’s made of china, his lips barely touching the back of Harry’s hand as he kisses it repeatedly. “It’s all up to you now, Love,” I hear him say, “I’ll be right here.”


	7. Harry Wakes up in ICU with Louis

Louis continues to minister to Harry while we wait for the results of the x-ray and the return of the doctor. It’s A level of tenderness I hadn’t expected, and I hate to interrupt, but we have to talk eventually.

“So, how long can we keep your arrival a secret? I mean, I think someone will notice if you’re not seen in London again soon,” I ask.

“Oh Darlin,” Louis begins, glancing my way, “You’re new at this bit. I’ve become an absolute expert. I’ll be seen heading to the studio tomorrow, and Eleanor will be taking the twins shopping in a few days, after they Snapchat their train trip down to see us.”

“How will you manage this?” I question, and see Paul smile out of the corner of my eye, “What, are you in on this, too?”

“Oh no,” Paul raises a hand in protest, “Not this time at least. Although I’ll confess I’ve had my share of misadventures where these two are concerned. Louis cooked up this bit all on his own.”

Louis shares a knowing smile with Paul and Paul shakes his head. “Eleanor has a phone full of photos that she’ll post or sell at just the right time. Just have to watch the timeline, and make sure the clothes and weather line up.”

“Can you trust her?” I ask.

“Money buys a lot of trust,” Louis states, “and I pay even better than Modest! does, and on top of what she gets from them. Of course, the shopping foray with the twins will be all on me; their expenses and hers. A little something extra to sweeten the deal. As far as the kids are concerned, I’m busy in the studio up North with some colleagues.”

“They’re not in on it?” I ask, a bit surprised.

“No. Well, not completely. At first, they were too young to be trusted. Lately – well, have you seen their Instagram stories? They really can’t keep a secret. But I feel like they’re starting to get suspicious. They know Harry is around a lot more than we let on, but mum always tells them we’re keeping it quiet to keep the rumors down. I feel like they’re suspicious of my relationship with Eleanor, though. I mean, she’s not all bad, despite how she gets portrayed, but we’re obviously not in love. We’re downright awkward with each other mostly. Whereas with Harry, well, sometimes we forget ourselves when we’re together. And they’re getting old enough to notice, just like Fizzy did. Lottie, well, she found out the first day she toured with us, and she was pretty chapped at first that I’d kept if from her, but she understood. Daisy and Phoebe will be another story.”

He frowns as he strokes Harry’s forehead, pushing his sweaty curls off of his face. “He’s warm,” he states, frowning, “feels feverish. I thought he was supposed to be getting better.”

“He is, Louis, but it’s going to take some time. You should have seen him last night. This is a vast improvement,” Paul states, “You missed the worst of it.”

“It’s not like I meant to!” Louis snaps, “I wanted to be here. Always want to be here. You can’t imagine what it’s like to get that kind of news and be that far away. It’s not like I ever wanted it to be this way. You don’t understand. Nobody does.”

He leans forward and kisses Harry’s nose, turning his back to us and sniffing.

Paul stands and walks quietly behind Louis, placing one hand on each of his shoulders and squeezes gently, “Didn’t mean it that way, Louis. You know that. I just meant that it seems like he’s much better. And he’ll be even better once he sees you’re here. He can be pretty hard to handle when you aren’t around.”

Louis nods without looking, wiping his face with the back of his hand, “Why’s it taking so bloody long?” he moans, “Let’s get on with it.”

A few minutes later Louis’ phone pings with a message. He manages to open it without releasing Harry’s hand, clicks a few times and reads for a moment. Then he gives a frustrated snort and hands his phone to me.

“Your famous,” he says, as I take the phone. There’s a photo of Harry being pushed out of the hotel on the ambulance cart with me close behind, and a typical blaring Sun headline reads “Harry Styles Rushed to Hospital with Possible Overdose – Mystery Blonde Accompanies from His Suite!”

I roll my eyes, “Bastards! Where do they get off insinuating it’s an overdose? Mystery blonde? Really?! I’m almost 10 years older than him! Your management team will be furious.”

“Oh no,” Louis states, “You underestimate them. They’ll love it. It makes Harry look exactly as they want him portrayed; a reckless party animal and womanizer. It even fits into their latest fantasy of him being especially interested in older women. You know, the ‘mom directioners.’ Don’t kid yourself. They’ll probably offer you a bonus not to deny it.”

“What do I do? What do I say?! I don’t want to play a part in their charade!” I look at Paul, who shakes his head, and turn to Louis, “What do you want me to say, Louis?”

“Honestly? Nothing. It’ll make it easier on us, Harry and I, if you just let it ride for now. Then they won’t be forcing some other relationship on him. Just let this sit, and then in a couple of weeks you can get all indignant about it. It’s worked for me when I’m in between those so-called serious bouts with Eleanor. We can trust you: you’re a friend. Most of the women they push on us are all about fame, money, or both.”

I’m about to say how nice it is to have him say I’m trustworthy when there is a tap on the door and Dr. Khan enters with a couple of nurses and a rolling cart of equipment. Another man enters behind them and suddenly the room feels full. Louis squeezes Harry’s hand and moves closer, as if protecting him.

“The x-rays look good,” she says as the other staff members begin moving equipment around, “I’d like to try extubating him, removing him from the vent and making sure he can breathe effectively on his own. We’ll turn down the Propofol, the sedation, and start waking him up. We’ll explain to him what we’re doing and then, when I’m sure he’s handling it well, remove the tube. He might be confused, might not remember where he is or what happened before he was brought in. Because of that, he might get frightened or combative. Familiar voices will help; do you think you could stay in the room?” she says to Louis, “I know it might be upsetting to watch, but it could make things easier for Harry.”

“Of course I’m staying,” Louis says, “you couldn’t get me out of this room.”

“Good.” She nods, “Let’s start.” The young man from earlier pushes a cart with intubation equipment up next to Harry’s head. “Just in case we have to reintubate,” Dr. Khan explains. A nebulizer mask is also prepared, “To help him clear his lungs once the tube is removed.”

“Louis, I’d like you to hold his hand on his left side. We’re going to turn him slightly that way to remove the tube. We’ll have to be gentle given his broken ribs. Carly, if you could hold his other hand. This is both to reassure him and to stop him from grabbing at the tube and other equipment, so please don’t let go of his hand if he panics.”

A few other nurses remain nearby in case they’re needed. One joins Dr. Khan near Harry’s head and begins adjusting the propofol drip. After a few minutes, Harry’s fingers begin to move in my hand and I see his eyelids flutter. Louis begins talking to him as soon as he sees the change.

“I’m here, Baby. Can you hear me? Can you feel my hand? Right here baby,” he soothes.

Harry’s eyes flutter open and he searches until his eyes lock in on Louis. His eyes begin to tear up as he attempts to move closer to him.

“No, Harry,” Dr. Khan says, “Try not to move. We want to remove the breathing tube so you can breathe on your own, but we need to take it slowly.” She nods to the young man from respiratory, who quickly suctions Harry’s mouth and throat and then adjusts the ventilator to deflate the cuff inside Harry’s throat. This will give Harry a chance to breathe on his own without removing the tube. Harry chokes a little, gagging at the sensation but immediately begins breathing. We watch his oxygen reading intently, and it drops briefly but comes back up to an acceptable level. I give a huge sigh of relief. Louis glances at me and I give him a smile and a nod.

“Your doing great,” he says to Harry, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

“Alright Harry,” Dr. Khan says, “we’re going to turn you to your side a little. I want you to cough when I tell you, and we’ll remove the tube.”

Harry’s eyes grow larger but he gives a tiny nod and the nurses turn him towards Louis. I continue to hold his hand, and Louis does the same, also gently touching his chest. “You can do this Harry, I know you can,” he says, “Nice and easy, Baby.”

“Alright, Harry, cough for me,” Dr. Khan says. Harry coughs as instructed and Dr. Khan pulls gently on the tube in Harry’s throat, steadily removing it. It’s a painful process, especially given that his throat is raw from strep. His body spasms several times as he hunches over his cracked ribs. I reach over him and press Louis’ hand gently into his side.

“Press lightly, Louis; try to support his ribs,” I say. He looks stunned, and I’m sure he didn’t realize the level of pain this procedure would cause. He flinches when the tube and deflated cuff clear Harry’s mouth and he finally lets out an excruciating retch and cries out in pain. A nurse quickly suctions Harry’s mouth and throat again, and the Respiratory therapist places the nebulizer mask over his nose and mouth, even as he continues to cough and sputter.

“I know it hurts, Harry, I’m so sorry about that, and I’ll give you more medication for the pain as soon as we’re sure your breathing is stable,” Dr. Khan says, laying a hand on Harry’s shoulder and helping to raise the head of the bed up.

“Give him something now!” Louis states, his anger pushing through his shaking voice, “He’s in pain now! Why does he have to wait?!”

“If we give him something now, it could suppress his breathing, and we’d have to intubate him again. If you want to help him, encourage him to breathe. Try to keep him calm instead of getting yourself, and him, worked up. Support his ribs; that will help reduce the pain. Try to get him to slow down and take deep breaths. As soon as we can stabilize his breathing, I’ll give him something more for the pain. I don’t like seeing him suffer either.”

Louis glances between Dr. Khan and Harry and then pulls his chair as tight as he can to the bed. I quickly hand him a folded blanket and help him position it over Harry’s broken ribs. He holds it in place with one hand and puts his other hand on the side of Harry’s face, stroking the bit of cheek not covered by the mask with his thumb.

“Harry, look at me,” Louis says, gently turning Harry’s face toward his own, “Right here, Hun, look at me.”

Harry is still gasping and welling up with tears. His eyes are darting around the room, and he’s looking more confused with each passing moment.

He suddenly pulls his hand out of mine, grabbing at the mask. I manage to pull it away, holding it firmly in both of mine. He turns to me, and looks so frightened it breaks my heart.

“Harry, stop now. You need to leave it on. Harry,” Louis reasons, gently directing Harry’s face back toward him, “Come on, Love, breathe with me.”

He locks eyes with Harry and takes an exaggerated deep breath. Harry makes a shaky attempt to follow his example, and Louis gives him a soft smile. “That’s it, Love, your doing so well,” he gently slides his thumb back and forth over Harry’s temple. Louis takes another deep breath, and Harry tries to follow suit, but he coughs and his face contorts in pain.

“Louis,” Harry chokes out, “hurts,” and winces again at the pain caused by trying to speak, closing his eyes tightly. He shakes his head and a sob escapes as his bottom lip starts to quiver.

The respiratory therapist removes the nebulizer mask and replaces it with oxygen through a nasal cannula. Harry hardly registers the activity, but Louis takes the opportunity to place a gentle kiss on his swollen lips.

Harry’s eyes open again, and Louis leans in to place a second kiss on his forehead. “So proud of you, Love. You’ve been so brave. Just a few more deep breaths and the doctor can give you some more medicine for the pain,” Louis soothes. Harry nods, again mimicking Louis’ breathing.

A few minutes later, his breathing has evened out, and Dr. Khan gives the order for more pain meds. I sigh with relief, knowing how painful this is for Harry. I glance over at Paul, and find his face lined with worry. I nod and give a quick smile and he relaxes a little, too.

“This should help with the pain, Harry,” Dr. Khan explains as the nurse injects the medication into his IV line, “You’re going to be very tired for at least a couple of days, not just from the medicine, but because your body is working so hard to take in enough oxygen. Sleep if you feel like it; the rest is good, but if your oxygen level drops the nurses will come in to rouse you to have you take some deep breaths again. You have a couple of cracked ribs from your cough, so you’ll need to work extra hard to push past that pain. Holding the folded blanket, or a pillow, over the area like Carly and Louis did for you will help. Take it easy on your voice for the next few hours. Speak softly and only if you really need to. I’d like you to try to start drinking some water, too, and maybe some warm or cold liquids, whichever you feel soothes your throat. We’ll keep you on a soft diet today, and see how you feel tomorrow.”

Harry’s eyes widen, “Tomorrow? I have to stay the night?” he asks, grimacing from the pain of speaking.

“Hush, Harry,” Louis chastises, “Of course your staying the night, and I am, too.” He slips his hand into Harry’s disheveled curls and cups the back of his head, “I’ll be right here, Baby. Right where I belong.” He presses his forehead into Harry’s.

“Any questions?” Dr. Khan asks.

“No,” Louis responds, “Thank you, though for everything.”

I stand and shake her hand, as does Paul. The nurses and Respiratory staff start leaving the room, and soon it’s just the 4 of us.


	8. Harry's Best Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis comforts and cares for Harry as he starts to recover.

The room is quiet now; just the beeping of the cardiac monitor and the whispering hiss of the oxygen. Louis is still seated in the chair pushed against the bed, but has stretched himself out to lay his chest on the edge of the bed. He’s resting his head on his arm, trying to get face to face with Harry, but Harry is refusing to make eye contact, instead curling slowly into a ball.

“What is it, Love,” Louis asks softly, “Are you hurting? Do you need something? What do you need, Baby?”

Harry shakes his head, then raises his eyes to meet Louis’, “Sorry,” he says softly, his voice cracking.

“No, Love, nothing to be sorry for. If anyone’s sorry, it’s me. I’d never have left if I’d thought you were poorly,” Louis responds.

“Can’t be helped,” Harry says, and Louis winces at the statement, knowing it’s exactly what he said to Harry when he left.

“Still, I should have been here,” Louis says, smoothing Harry’s hair away from his face, “After all, I promised your Mum I’d take care of you, didn’t I, when she let us move in together. What a shit job I’ve made of that!” He gives Harry’s ear a playful tickle and is rewarded with a dimpled smile.

“Oh, hey, what about Anne?” Louis asks, turning back to Paul and me, “Has somebody talked to Anne?”

“I called,” Paul offers, “Thought we’d call back later, after Harry has a rest.”

Louis nods, just as Harry’s face falls, “You called my mum?!” Harry says, his voice breaking, “Why? She’s going to be so worried!”

“Harry, I had to,” Paul says, standing and moving toward the bed, “Things were quite serious for awhile, and the paps did manage to get a shot of you getting loaded into the ambulance. I knew you wouldn’t want her to find out from the newspaper.”

“What about the rest of the boys, and management…” Harry is suddenly out of breath, his voice raspy, his face getting pale and blotchy.

“Shh, breathe, Baby,” Louis coos.

“We’ll take care of all that,” Paul adds, resting his hand on the blanket over Harry’s ankles, “I think you’ve got enough to do just healing up. You heard the doc. Rest up; no worries.”

“I agree,” I say, coming up to sit behind him. I look over Harry and catch Louis eyes. I run my fingertips in random patterns on Harry’s back.

“I could use a little rest myself,” Louis says, rising from the chair and stretching his arms over his head.

“Are you going to the hotel?” Harry asks, eyes wide and watery.

“Uh…no!” Louis says as he kicks off his shoes, “Really Harold, do you think I came all this way just to sleep in a hotel alone? Now, scooch over.”

“Oh, hey,” I say, stretching an arm over Harry, “maybe not a great idea. He still has two IVs, broken ribs and a catheter.”

Louis opens his mouth to protest, but Harry beats him to it. “I need him,” he says quietly, reaching out to Louis.

“We’ll be careful,” Louis promises, “Besides, he’s always been my china doll.”

How could I protest that? So with a massive joint effort, we lower the head of the bed a bit, get Harry turned off of his broken ribs, and untangle the IV and Oxygen tubing. A nurse enters as we’re tidying up with a tray of tea and a soft food collection.

“Louis thought he might cuddle up with Harry for a bit,” I offer, “I know it’s probably not protocol, but…”

“Officially? Absolutely not,” she says with a smile, “but I’m his nurse for eight more hours. So I say, cuddle away. Just be careful with the tubing. I’m Alice, by the way.” She sets the tray on a bedside table and pulls her stethoscope from around her neck.

“Let me take a set of vitals real quick. Dr. Clay put in an order to discontinue the catheter, so I can rid you of one tube.” She listens to Harry’s lungs and checks his blood pressure and other vitals.

As she gets her equipment ready to remove the catheter, he exchanges glances with Louis and his pale face turns red with embarrassment.

“Do you want us to leave, Hun?” I ask.

“Don’t leave, please!” he says, worriedly, “Just, maybe, don’t watch?”

I smile and nod. Paul takes the opportunity to head out for the hotel, patting Harry’s back and giving Louis shoulder a squeeze. He wraps his arm around me, and I grab his giant paw of a hand. “Well done,” he says to me, and I blink back tears.

Louis takes a seat on the bed behind Harry, his arm draped gently over his side, holding his hand against his chest. I find a place near his feet and rest my hand on his curled up knees.

“The key to this,” Alice says, as she walks to the sink to wash her hands, “is more breathing. I’ll draw the water out of the little balloon anchoring it in your bladder, then I’ll have you take a deep breath, and blow out while I slide the tube out.”

Harry’s face blanches a bit. “Does it hurt?” he asks, cringing.

“It’s not horrible,” Alice answers honestly, “stings a bit, I hear. And it might burn the first few times you urinate, but other than that, not too bad.”

“I’m not kissing it better, if that’s where your headed,” Louis jokes, hugging Harry close to his hip, then bends down to whisper in Harry’s ear, “At least not yet.”

Harry gives a little giggle, as Alice uncovers him and opens a sterile towel. He quickly closes his eyes and reaches back for Louis other hand. I squeeze his knee as Alice drains the balloon thru the port and then instructs Harry to breathe in. He tries, but ends up coughing, and she carefully slips the tubing out, causing him to give a little squeal and squeeze Louis hand. His eyes water but he looks relieved. Alice gathers the tubing and catheter bag and untapes the clip that had held it to his leg.

Louis bends down and kisses his temple, whispering in his ear as I move to dig through the bag Paul brought earlier. I find some boxers and sleep pants and bring them back to the bed. Alice asks if we need any help, and Harry shakes his head, still a bit shy.

“Call me if you need anything,” she offers, “and do try to eat some of the food from the tray,” she gestures.

She leaves and I make a quick trip to the restroom to ‘freshen up,’ giving Louis ample time to help Harry into his sleep clothes. I return to find Louis slipping into bed behind Harry. I help with the IV and cardiac monitor leads, finally getting him settled.

“How about some ice cream, Harry?” I offer, looking over the selections on the tray.

“No, Carly, I’m too tired,” he responds sleepily.

"Yes, Carly,” Louis responds, using the remote to sit the bed up a bit, “Just a few bites, Love, and then we’ll nap.”

Harry grumbles but turns a bit. I hand him the little container of ice cream, mostly melted now. Louis takes it from him and takes the spoon I’m holding. He scoops up a small bite, feeding it to Harry. I watch with a smile, so impressed with his tenderness.

He glances my way and smirks. “What?” he asks, “am I doing it wrong?”

“No, not at all,” I say, “I’m just a bit in awe, that’s all. I don’t picture you like this.”

“Like what?” He asks, continuing to spoon feed Harry.

“All soft and tender,” I respond.

“Yeah, well. Don’t spread it around,” he says, reaching over Harry for a tissue to wipe Harry’s chin, “You’ll ruin my donny chav reputation.”

Harry shakes his head at the next spoonful, struggling to swallow. “Hurts,” he mumbles.

“Come on, Love,” Louis tries, “one more bite.”

Harry shakes his head again, pulling the blanket up around his neck. He turns to curl into Louis, forgetting his ribs and pressing them into the bedding. He lets out a quick gasp, trying to turn the other way, and ends up pulling against the blanket, making the pain even sharper. He cries out, his voice breaking, and Louis and I try to untangle him.

“Easy,” I say, “Harry, wait,” I try again as he struggles against the blanket. He squeezes his eyes tightly shut, a frustrated sob breaking loose.

“Stop,” Louis voice is soft, as he turns Harry gently to his right side. He hands me the food container and spoon and slides Harry’s back into his chest.

“Hush, Baby,” he soothes, kissing the back of Harry’s head and wrapping his arm around his waist. I take a blanket from the closet, folding it and placing it over Harry’s now-aching ribs. Louis takes the cue and gingerly slides his hand over it.

“How’s this, Babe?” he asks, “Better?”

Harry nods slightly, giving a quiet sniffle. His face is getting blotchy again, the pain and exhaustion getting the best of him. I rub my hand over his arm, now curled against his chest.

“Just rest, now, Hun,” I say, as Louis snuggles into his neck. He’s still crying softly, but I leave it to Louis to give the comfort Harry needs. I close the curtains in the room and turn off the harsh overhead lights. I cover them both with another blanket, and Louis gives me a wink as I settle back into my chair.

Alice taps on the door and peaks in, “Everything okay? She asks, “The monitor at the nurse’s station shows Harry’s oxygen is going down a bit. You okay, Sweetheart?”

“He rolled onto his ribs,” Louis responds quietly, “Gave him a jolt of pain I’m afraid.”

“Well, I thought it might be something like that,” she says, coming around the door, “I’ve got just the thing. Got an order for more pain meds, Harry, can I give it to you? Make you feel better, and rest better.”

“No,” Harry answers turning to Louis with those big watery eyes.

“Yes, Harry,” Louis says, kissing his cheek, “I’ll be right here, Love, we’ve discussed it, I’m not going anywhere.”

Harry finally nods, and I’m so thrilled to have Louis here to help with the convincing. Alice injects the medicine into Harry’s IV port, and he visually relaxes into Louis’ arms. “And no more talking,” Alice admonishes as she leaves.

Louis begins to massage Harry’s curls tenderly, and soon his breathing evens out. “Always puts him out,” Louis mumbles, smiling.

My phone buzzes in my pocket just as I start to settle back into my chair. I fish it out and a quick glance at the screen tells me it’s the call I’ve been dreading.


	9. Management Calls

"This is Carly,” I answer curtly, meeting Louis’ eyes across the room. He softly cups his hand over the ear Harry doesn’t have buried into a pillow.

“What’s going on down there, Carly?” Jason’s whiney voice sounds through the phone, “I don’t hear shit from you, and all of a sudden Harry is splattered on the cover of every celebrity rag on the news stands. Is this for real, or some dramatic tantrum to get Louis’ attention?”

I suck in a slow deep breath through gritted teeth. Of all the management minions, I find Jason the most grating. His lack of compassion and inability to see the boys as anything more than a meal ticket is as blatant as it is sickening.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get in contact with you sooner, Jason,” I say, trying hard to cover my contempt, “I’ve had my hands full with Harry. I assure you, his ill health is 100% real.”

“So what are we looking at here? When is he getting discharged?” he grumbles.

“He’s in Intensive Care Jason, in serious condition; right now I’m just thinking about when he’ll be moved to a less intensive room. He was only extubated a few hours ago.” I stress.

“You let them intubate him?!” he suddenly roars, and I wince, pulling the phone away from my ear, “You let them shove a tube down his throat? Do you know what that could do to his voice?”

“Yes Jason, I let them. I let them save his life, because I wasn’t sure how great his voice would sound if he was dead. Right now, he’s not talking very much, and that’s at his doctor’s instruction. We’re doing the best that we can to minimize any damage, but at the time, we didn’t have much choice since he wasn’t breathing. You weren’t exactly here for consultation, not that I would count on you to have his best interest at heart,” I say, surprising even myself with my sarcastic insinuation to the man who signs my paychecks.

Louis flicks his eyebrows up, then winks at me from across the room and gives a little smile of appreciation.

“Just keep an eye on things,” Jason says, “Make sure they’re not dilly-dallying around, doing extra tests or taking extra time they don’t need to. I need him back and in front of the cameras as soon as possible. And you might do well to remember who it is that you work for.”

“I saw an article that insinuated Harry and I were an item,” I say, ignoring his thinly veiled threat, “Should I try to do something about that?” I ask, and his answer is immediate, as Louis predicted.

“Oh no, nothing to worry about there. I’m sure it'll blow over shortly. Just stay close-lipped on the topic and I’m sure it'll pass,” he responds.

I can’t help but be reminded of all of the times they’ve forced the opposite approach on Louis and Harry; how they've pushed them to not only deny their affections for each other but even say they can hardly stand to be in the same room, forcing them to allow their social media accounts to be commandeered by their publicists who then attacks fans who are making comments admiring the closeness between them or asking about “Larry Stylinson.” Their own mothers had been censored after the first few months, having been warned against making posts that demonstrated support of their sons' blossoming romance. I remember all too well finding Harry sobbing, hiding in the back of the bus, completely devastated by a comment he’d thought Louis had posted to his Twitter account. It was hard for him to hear Louis deny their relationship, even when it was a rehearsed statement he knew was going to happen. Finding unexpected statements on social media or in print interviews had caused a lot of misunderstandings and tearful nights.

Of course this new accusation with it’s heterosexual portrayal will get full Management support, as it fits in with their new depiction of Harry as a cougar loving womanizer. I’m not thrilled to be personified as a medical professional taking advantage of a young patient, but I remember what Louis said and let it go for now.

“Do you know if anyone has contacted Louis?” I say, testing the waters, “I think Harry would do better if he heard from him.”

“He’s been driving me crazy with text messages ever since it hit the news,” Jason says, “Louis isn’t a doctor; there’s nothing he can do for Harry. All of this ‘emotional support’ bull shit is just an excuse for the two of them to play house together over the break, and I’m not falling for it. Let’s just keep Louis on task and out of this. I’ll handle Louis; keep him updated and all that. With Harry lounging around in LA, we need Louis making his presence known in London even more. Leave that to me. You just keep your focus on Harry's health. That’s your job. Get him up and running ASAP.” With that, he hung up in my ear.

“Bastard,” I mumbled to myself. I glance over at Louis, who has gone back to gently drawing his fingers thru Harry's curls, “He says he’s going to keep you updated and all that. It’ll be interesting to see what he decides you need to know.”

Harry shifts in his sleep, his brow furrowing as he starts to wake. He breaks into a fit of chesty coughs and clutches at his side, then pulls his arm away looking confused, “Oww,” he gurgles out, turning his arm to look at it.

“What is it, Babe?” Louis asks, reaching for Harry’s wrist, “Is your arm asleep?”

I slip over to the side of the bed and reach for Harry’s arm, but he winces as he tries to extend it. I gently take his forearm and turn it to see the IV site. The area around the cannula is blanching and cool to the touch; a swollen, sore looking mess. I press the call light for the nurse.

“Your IV infiltrated, Hun,” I say, laying his arm gently against his side.

“It burns,” he says, scrunching up his nose. He coughs again, trying to cover his mouth, “Ahh, ouch,” he says again, curling against his side. Louis puts his hand against the blanket, supporting Harry's ribs.

Alice responds to the call light, examines the IV site and comes to the same conclusion, “We’ll have to remove it,” she says, “Then I'll call the doctor and see if he wants us to replace it. He still has one site running, so hopefully that will do.”

She quickly gathers her supplies and puts some gloves on. She gently takes Harry’s arm apologizing as she goes and removes the IV and all of the tape securing it. She and I both look over the site as Harry snuggles into Louis for support.

Louis' phone buzzes just as Alice is finishing. He glances at the screen and begins to slide out from behind Harry.

“No,” Harry moans, reaching for Louis with his throbbing arm. I catch his wrist to stop him as he struggles to turn around.

“Wait, Harry,” I say, trying to stop him without causing further pain, “Slow down, Hun.” He ignores me, pulling away and reaching for Louis, grabbing in time to catch the edge of his T-shirt.

“No, stay, please,” he says, voice breaking. Louis presses his finger to his lips, then points to the phone. Alice reaches for Harry’s arm, checking the site one more time and then laying his arm down, patting it gently. She gathers the discarded items and leaves for the nurses station, presumably to call the doctor about starting a second IV.

Louis stands up and walks to the other side of the room, answering the phone as he goes. “Yes Jason,” he says curtly, turning back around to face us. He turns the speaker on as Jason begins speaking. “…just a big overreaction. Some asthma attack or something. Carly freaked out and called an ambulance. It’s nothing. You need to keep doing what you’re doing. Make sure everyone knows there’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“You’re sure?” Louis asks, eyes narrowing, “Maybe I should head back.”

“Absolutely not,” Jason responds, “I won’t authorize it. Besides, it’s completely unnecessary. Carly’s there if he really needs something. Let her do her job, and you do yours.”

“If I find out otherwise, if I find out you’re covering something up….” Louis starts, but Jason cuts him off.

“You’ll what? You’ll do just as your told, won’t you, Louis? There's too much at stake here. Don’t go flying off. Don’t get it twisted. Think about it carefully. That’s a good lad.” Jason's patronizing tone visibly makes Louis' blood boil, but he stops himself.

“You might just be surprised at what I’d do, Jason,” he says calmly, and ends the call.

Louis comes back to the bed and sits on the edge behind Harry, running his hand gently down Harry’s side. Harry slowly rolls to his back to look at Louis. His eyes, still glassy with fever, tear up as he tries to speak.

“You’re leaving,” he says flatly.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry,” Louis says, stroking the hair at his temple, “I didn’t come all this way just to turn around and head back. Besides, look at you, Love! I’d never leave you alone in this condition. I’m not going anywhere, Darlin.”

Harry continues to study Louis’ face, finally reaching for his hand. Louis leans forward and kisses his forehead and each of his fever flushed cheeks.

“Promise,” Harry whispers, “Promise me.”

“I promise,” Louis says, giving a goofy grin and making an “X” over his heart with his free hand, “Cross my heart, hope to die…”

“Promise me!” Harry interrupts, clutching Louis’ hand in both of his, “Please,” he whispers again, forcing himself to sit up.

“I promise, Love, I mean it,” Louis says, wrapping his arms tenderly around Harry’s trembling frame. Harry buries his face in Louis’ neck as Louis gently rocks the two of them side to side. He murmurs sweetly into Harry’s ear, and Harry nods a few times, sighing. Louis lays him back against the pillow just as Alice returns with another person pushing the portable X-ray machine.

“The Dr. Khan wants to see another chest X-ray before deciding to discontinue the second IV. She just wants to make sure things are still improving. I’ll need you two to step out for a moment,” she says, nodding to Louis and I.

“I’ll be right outside the door, Babe,” Louis says, taking Harry’s hand and kissing the back of it. He and I step out into the hall and he leans against the wall.

“You can go have a cigarette if you need,” I suggest, “It’ll probably take a few minutes.

“No,” Louis says, “I’m alright.”

“You can have one of the security guards go down with you if you’d like. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind. Besides, it’s late. Not much chance of being seen now. It’ll be harder later.”

“No, I promised,” Louis responds, “I wouldn’t want to have them finish up and then me not be here. Proper freak him out, I’m afraid.”

“He really is worried about you leaving,” I respond, “It breaks my heart a bit.”

“I guess I haven’t always been dependable,” Louis frowns.

“Oh no,” I say, shaking my head, “I didn’t mean anything by it…”

“No, it’s alright,” he responds, looking away, “It’s true anyway. I guess I take him for granted. I assume he’ll always be here, waiting for me. I listen to the advise from management and never think about how it affects him. I’ve betrayed him everywhere but in my heart. That has always belonged 100% to him. I guess it’s time I started showing it.”

Alice opens the door as the radiology tech pushes the portable X-ray out of the room.

“We’re done for now,” she states, “The doctor will take a look as soon as it comes up. I’ve given Harry a warm compress to put over the old IV site and asked him to elevate it to help clear the fluid. Maybe you can help him out.”

I nod as Louis leads us back into the room. Harry’s face is flushed with fever, but he still looks relieved at seeing Louis stride back in. Louis takes the compress from where it sits untouched on the side of the bed and I stop to grab an extra pillow from the closet to prop Harry’s arm on.

“Lets see what we can do with this,” Louis teases, pretending he is going to lay it over Harry’s face. Harry swats it away and Louis gently takes his hand, wrapping the compress over the sore area. I set the pillow over his stomach and Louis lays his arm down on it.

“Much better,” Louis says, sliding his hand into Harry’s sweat-dampened curls and stroking his cheek with his thumb, “Now lets get back to some serious cuddling, yeah?”


	10. A Night in ICU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis cares for Harry, and vows to be there for him. Harry makes some improvement.

Harry turns slowly back to his side, closing his eyes, his back to Louis. Louis sits on the bed, his hip against Harry's back, slipping his hand under Harry’s elevated arm and wrapping his arm around his stomach.

“I meant what I said, Harry,” he says gently, “I’m here babe, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m sorry that I haven’t always been here when you wanted me or needed me. But I'm here now. Let me help. Let me take care of you.”

Harry nods slightly, but his eyes remain closed. He looks exhausted again, his eyes sunken, his dark curls accentuating the washed out pallor of his face. Every little bit of activity exhausts him. It’s going to be a much longer recovery than management will willingly tolerate, I’m afraid. I meet eyes with Louis and shake my head. I pull a chair close to Harry’s bedside and put my face near his.

“I know you must be so tired, Honey. Just try to rest, and Louis and I will take care of everything else. You just tell us anything you need and we’ll take care of it, okay?”

I barely get the words out before there is another tap on the door, and Alice enters looking apologetic. “The doctor wants us to draw some labs, Hun,” she says, looking sadly at Harry, “We’ll just be real quick, I promise. I need to add another bag of fluids and another antibiotic to your IV and then I promise I’ll leave you alone and let you rest.”

Harry turns slowly and painfully back onto his back, flinching as his ribs protest. His eyes flutter open, and I can see his pain, but he holds back his tears.

I move to make way for Alice as she hangs a fresh bag of fluids and adds the additional medication. A lab tech follows her in and sits down, readying her tourniquet and draw kit. Sadly, Harry is still quite dehydrated and it takes several attempts before she gets the blood samples she needs. Harry’s bottom lip is starting to quiver by the time the ordeal is coming to an end.

Alice offers and administers some additional pain meds without really waiting for Harry to answer her when she asks if he wants it. She turns the overhead lights off and lets the door close softly behind her just as Harry lets a raspy sob escape.

Louis is immediately with him, having never ventured far. He crawls in under the covers and turns Harry gently to rest his head against his chest. “I’ve got you, Love,” he murmurs softly, “Such a brave boy.” Harry curls his lanky frame into Louis and lets himself be held and cuddled. He seems too tired to even cry, but as Louis coos and strokes his hair, his tears silently fall. Louis pulls him closer, humming and softly singing.

I move away from the bed a bit, but I can’t help admiring the scene as Louis works his magic. Harry melts into Louis touch, and within a few minutes both are sleeping.

I slip over to the recliner in the room and ease the seat back, hoping to catch a few minutes of sleep myself. I check my phone first for any urgent messages. Just as Louis predicted, pics of him outside of the studio have been "leaked” on Instagram. The six hour time difference has lined up perfectly, and the woman who posted them stated she took them this morning when she jogged by and spotted him.

There is a sweet message from Liam, asking whether he should return to help take care of Harry. Another from Niall asking me to tell Harry that he’ll be back in LA in a few days and will be ‘‘round to see him straight away.” Anne left a voice message asking me to call when Harry is up to speaking for a few minutes, and a DM from Grimmy jokingly asking when we are announcing our engagement. Gemma has posted a scathing rebuttal to the story insinuating Harry may have overdosed, and Ed says he’s arranged for a delivery of Harry’s favorite childhood treats to tempt him into eating, and possibly putting on a couple of pounds that he seems to have lost. I’m too tired to respond individually, so I settle on sending out a mass message letting them all know that he is still very tired but doing better and promising I’ll get back to them later.

I pull my own hooded sweatshirt tightly around me and join the boys in slumber. It seems like five minutes later when I feel a hand gently shaking my shoulder. I crack my eyes open ever so slightly and find Paul smiling down, waving a cup of tea under my nose. He quickly brings his finger to his lips to shush me, then gestures to the bed with his thumb. Harry and Louis are sleeping soundly, still intertwined. A quick glance at Harry tells me that he looks ever-so-slightly better. He’s still pale, but not deathly so, and his hair is no longer damp with sweat. Paul is also looking him over.

“He looks better,” Paul whispers, “Louis’ magic touch.”

I give him a smirk as I sip my tea, “Yeah, the antibiotics may have contributed just a little.”

He rolls his eyes but nods. “I stopped at the nurses station on the way in,” he continues to whisper, “That nurse from last night said they were planning on moving him to another floor today, so I asked her if we could do it early this morning, before the hospital is filled with visitors. Sounds like they’ll be coming down shortly.”

I hear Louis stifle a yawn, and look over to see him trying to stretch without waking Harry. “I need a piss,” he says, glancing around the room, “Help me out, would ya?”

Paul makes his way to the bed and helps Louis detangle himself from Harry’s long arms and legs. The two of them somehow manage the task without waking Harry, and Louis trips his way to the small bathroom in the room.

I take the opportunity to move closer to Harry, feeling his forehead for fever and assessing his breathing. His lungs are still crackling, but his coughing has slowed down. I’d be interested to know what the chest x-ray from last night looks like.

Alice comes quietly through the door as I’m pondering this, with a couple of techs I assume will be helping to move Harry to another room.

“What did the X-ray from last night look like?” I ask her, before I forget. “Better," she says, "but he's still got a lot of fluid in that left lower lobe. There’s enough improvement that we can move him to a regular floor, but still not enough to even estimate when he might be able to be discharged. He's not really eating or drinking on his own, either. Maybe you can work on that with him today.”

She takes out her stethoscope and gently places it on Harry’s chest. I’m wishing I had a second set of ear pieces so I could hear what she is hearing. She sees me hovering and offers to let me listen. She's right of course, the right side is greatly improved, nearly clear, but the left side is still crackling.

“I'd ask you to encourage him to cough and clear it, but with the cracked ribs, it would just be too painful,” she says with a little frown, “Once the pain started, It would be difficult enough for him to just continue deep breathing. We’ll have to hope that the antibiotics are strong enough to clear it.”

I watch as she continues checking his vitals. His blood pressure is a little high as is his heart rate. It’s to be expected with the fever and the pain. she checks the infiltrated IV site from the night before and says it looks fine. Harry starts to wake as she's checking his blood pressure, and by the time she’s finished his eyes are scanning the room.

“Louis’ just in the restroom hon, he's coming right back out,” Harry's big eyes soften and he nods a little, “They're going to move you to a different room honey, one on the regular floor.”

“It'll be quieter,” Alice reassures, “and definitely private. We've taken care of all of it, not to worry. Same doctors and all.”

“And you?” Paul asks, “will you be coming along?”

“No,” Alice answers, “I’m an ICU nurse, so I’ll be staying here. But I’ve asked for a specific nurse on the floor, one that I know is good and can be trusted with your 'situation.' I’d trust her with my own family; she's brilliant and very kind.”

“Thank you for all you done for us,” I say. She gives me a hug and pat’s Harry on the shoulder. “You’ve got some great friends here,” she tells him. He nods and we get a little smile.

The two techs who followed her in have managed to gather up all of Harry's equipment. Paul steps outside the door to talk to the security guards as Louis exits the restroom.

“What’s with this?” He asks, waving his hand at all of us in the room.

“We’re moving Harry to room 429,” Alice says, “His breathing has improved. He's ready to head to a regular floor.”

Paul slips back into the room and over to Louis as we are finishing up. “I think we should move you two separately,” he says, “so we can attract less attention. Maybe you can head in an opposite direction with one of the other security guys. He knows a second set of elevators that will land you in the same place. We can meet in Harry's new room.”

“I don't really like leaving Harry,” Louis says, “I mean, I get it, I do, but I want to make sure he understands that it's just for a minute.”

He moves back over to Harry's side and takes his hand, “We need to run a little interference, Love. Paul is going to take us to your new room from different directions, but I’ll be right there with you as soon as I can. Okay?”

Harry nods, giving Louis a little smile, “It's fine, Lou. I trust you. See you in a minute.”

Louis kisses the back of Harry’s hand and lays it down, pulling his blankets over him. I toss him a hoody and Paul begins gathering their personal belongings. Louis heads out the door to a waiting security guard and they start down the hall. The rest of us wait a few minutes and start out the door in the opposite direction.

I've done this a few times with them now, trying to be nonchalant and make our way in a public place. I know the drill; look at the floor, don’t make eye contact, move quickly and with purpose. I feel like we’ve gotten away clean and we’re waiting for an elevator when a small group of people move up next to us. The security guards who have come with us are trying to keep the new arrivals separate from our small group. An elevator opens and the security team escorts Paul and I in behind Harry's bed.

“Sorry,” one of them says to the women behind us, “The bed takes up so much room. I'll have to have you wait for the next elevator.”

“It's okay,” she answers, “We're in no hurry.”

Just as the door closes and I finally inhale, I hear it, “Hey, isn’t that him? Isn’t that Harry…..” 

I cover my face and Paul groans. “Well, it was good while it lasted,” he sighs.


	11. Spotted by Fans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is spotted by fans during a room transfer, and Louis becomes distant.

I glanced back at Harry to see if he heard the comments. His eyes are huge, but when they connect with mine he closes them.

“All right Harry?” I ask. He shakes his head but says nothing.

As the elevator opens, Paul begins pushing the buttons for all the floors above ours. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask as I slide out in front of Harry’s bed.

“This way they can't tell which floor we got out on. It will stop on every floor from ours on up. Gives us a minute to get to his room before they start searching the halls,” Paul responds, then turns to one of the security guards, “Can you use the cameras in the hallways to figure out where these young ladies were headed? Or whether they even really have a legit reason to be in the hospital?”

“Of course,” a uniformed young man answers, “the hospital's policy dictates that anyone in the hospital has to be either a patient or visitor. Otherwise they are simply loitering and can be removed. Nothing to do specifically with Harry, it’s just the hospital’s policy. The staff won’t confirm that he’s here either, his patient information is clearly marked.”

Another security guard is already on her radio, notifying the House Supervisor of what has happened.

Harry's bed is rolled quickly to his new room as we jog along behind. There is a nurse waiting, holding the door open. She must have also been notified, and she is quick to get us inside and get the door shut.

“I’m Julie,” she says, helping the techs slide Harry from one bed to the other, and then resetting his IV and oxygen, “I don’t want you to concern yourself with what happened by the elevators. The hospital has excellent security and I know you have your own people as well,” she gestures to Paul.

She gets no response from Harry, so she bends down closer to his face, “Harry? It’s okay, really. We’ve had celebrities here before, and we’ve always managed to keep things under wraps. You worry about getting well, and we’ll handle the rest.”

Louis pushes thru the door as she’s finishing up, followed by the plain-clothed guard who escorted him. The guards in the room are immediately in front of him, blocking his view and asking questions. Paul intercedes as Louis puffs out his chest, indignant at the intrusion. There’s a bit of blustering on both sides, and then Harry reaches out. Louis shoves past the group and over to Harry, taking his hand.

“What the fuck,” he yells over his shoulder, “what the hell happened?”

“A little incident at the elevator,” Paul states, “we were spotted. No pictures, nothing like that, but they definitely knew it was Harry.”

Louis’ attention is immediately on Paul. He lets go of Harry’s hand, pulling his fingers through his own hair. Harry reaches for him again, but he props his hands on his hips. Harry's stricken expression is heartbreaking. He pulls his hand back slowly, staring at Louis' face.

“Shit,” Louis says, moving over to Paul, “What now? What do we do?”

I'm still looking at Harry, his eyes welling up as they follow Louis across the room. I move quietly to his side and take his now-empty hand.

He finally turns to look at me. “He’s done,” he says softly, “just watch. He’ll stop looking me in the eyes. He’ll make some phone calls in the hallway. By tonight, he’ll be telling me that we need to think of everyone; that we can’t be selfish. And by morning he’ll be gone.”

I wish I could tell him that he was wrong, but I’ve never seen such a complete turnaround in a person. Louis is suddenly completely oblivious to Harry, his full attention on the security team. His exaggerated gestures demonstrate his frustration and anxiety. I’m really hoping that Harry is wrong, but I can’t even make myself believe it for sure.

“Harry, we need to focus on your health, Honey,” I try desperately to change the subject, “I’m serious now. Let Paul and the others worry about the rest of it. We need to take care of you.”

Julie joins me at Harry's bedside, “The doctor says we can take off your cardiac monitor. So it gives you a little more freedom,” she says smiling, “and we really need to get you eating and drinking, so tell me what you like.”

Harry’s eyes are still on Louis, but he finally breaks the trance and looks at Julie. “I don’t care,” He says quietly, “anything is fine. I’m not really hungry anyway.”

Louis is looking our way, and I wait for him to make some comment to Harry, to mention something he knows Harry will eat, or to chastise Harry and tell him that he has to try harder. Instead he turns his attention back to Paul and continues their conversation.

I feel like I can hear Harry's heart breaking. He lays back into the bed as Julie begins removing the cardiac monitor pads. She tries to make a light-hearted comment about pulling out all his chest hair, but he struggles to crack even a tiny smile.

A thick cough causes Harry hands to fly to his face. He grabs his chest, and Julie grabs a pillow to support his ribs.

“Easy, Harry,” she says. She grabs her radio unit and calls for a respiratory therapist.

Harry is still coughing and choking, his face twisting with pain. It takes a few minutes before the therapist arrives with a breathing treatment. Finally, Louis notices Harry's distress and returns to his bedside, coaching him through some slow breathing as we wait, but as soon as the therapist enters with Harry's breathing treatment, Louis steps away and returns to his conversation with Paul.

Harry turns to his side with his back to Louis. The respiratory mask with it’s steamy medication is slipped over his face and his coughing eases.

“I told you,” he mumbles to me thru the mask, “he’s done with me.”

It takes everything in me not to cross the room and shove Louis. He’s still flailing his arms as he talks to Paul and the other security people.

Paul rolls his eyes at me, and continues to try to reason with Louis. “Look Lou,” he says, “we’ve handled this a million times. We’ve got it covered. It was inevitable, honestly; people knew he was hospitalized and there’s a limited number of hospitals in the area. The goal now is to maintain his privacy as much as possible, and to keep you undetected.”

Finally, the techs leave Harry’s room with the ICU bed, and the security guards take the opportunity to exit back put into the hallway. There is some discussion as to how they will watch the room, without making it obvious which room they are actually looking after. They finally decide on chairs staggered in the hallway and at the nurses station. The floor is designed for additional security, and reserved for patients who need it, so this additional measure should be more than sufficient. Louis seems satisfied with this.

He walks away from Paul to the window to watch the sun which is beginning to rise. Harry's respiratory treatment winds down, and the respiratory tech removes the mask and replaces his oxygen.

Julie checks the setting on the oxygen and ensures the tubing is comfortable for Harry. She takes an additional set of vitals, and checks his throat as it is still sore and his voice still raspy. She suggests some additional pain medication so that he can eat and drink less painfully, but he declines. For once, Louis is disinterested and does not insist that Harry be made comfortable. Julie gathers her supplies and leaves.

“I think I'd better let the management team know that we've been spotted,” Paul says, “Maybe they can suppress any fan postings.”

“Sounds good,” Louis says turning from the window, “I might make a few calls meself, let the boys know what’s happening.” He slides across the room and gives Harry a quick peck on the forehead, “I’ll be right back, Love.”

Paul and Louis leave the room together after both have donned a sweatshirt and Louie has pulled on a baseball cap and covered his tattoos. Harry turns away as they exit, his eyes welling up with tears.

“See?” he says to me, “It's happening already.” He brings his arm up to cover his face.

“Maybe he means it, Harry,” I say stroking his hair back and pulling his arm down, “Maybe he really is just calling the boys to let them know. They've all been messaging about you, all concerned about your well-being.”

Harry shakes his head and turns away, tears streaming down his face. “At least he came back for a while,” he says, “but it always ends this way. You’ll see. He means well. I really think he does love me. Just, well, not enough.”

I bend down and hug him gently. I really don't know what to say. I don’t know how he stands to go thru this charade over and over again.

“It's all right,” he says a few minutes later, pulling away and trying to give me a smile, “I’m used to it. I take what he can give me, and I try to make the best of it.”

I sit down on the edge of the bed, hugging him more closely. He hugs me back this time.

“Don't be sad,” he says, “I know how it is, I've accepted it. I love him. If this is the only way we can be together, then I just have to bear it. There's no other choice.”


	12. Louis Becomes Distant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis pulls back from Harry, and Harry fears he will return to London

Louis returns a few minutes later, still antsy and distracted. He paces for a few minutes, swearing under his breath. Harry is silent, his eyes following Louis around the room.

Dr. Khan comes by for morning rounds, listening to Harry's lungs once again. She says they'll need to draw more labs later, and take another chest x-ray. “I really need to see you eating and drinking, Harry,” she says, “We can keep you fairly hydrated with the IV, but you don't seem to be improving. Is your throat sore? Is that the problem?”

Harry shrugs. “I don't have much of an appetite or anything,” he says quietly, “I'm sorry. I'll try harder.”

“I'm not trying to scold you,” she says kindly, “I just want to make sure that things are still going in the right direction. I’m wondering about your throat, because I know that you also have strep, but the antibiotics should have that under control by now. I’m wondering if we bruised your vocal cords when you were intubated. Your voice is still raspy, which would be another indication of bruising.”

Louis' ears perk up from across the room. He plops down in the chair at Harry’s bedside, taking Harry’s hand between his. “What would that mean exactly, bruising of his vocal cords? Does it damage his voice? How long does it take to heal?”

“If they’re simply bruised or irritated, it's really nothing to worry about. He would need to be on full vocal rest for a few days, but it should heal without further intervention on its own. I’m going to order a few things, mostly for comfort,” she explains as she begins writing in Harry’s chart, “We'll bring in a humidifier set to steam. The moist, warm air will soothe and lubricate his throat. Keeping the throat moist in general is important, so I would like him to start trying to sip warm beverages; decaffeinated tea works well, even the old-fashioned remedy of lemon and honey in warm water is helpful. I'd suggest that no one smokes around him for a few weeks, even after he leaves the hospital. It’s important that he not breathe in the residual smoke on clothing, either, so I’d suggest anyone who smokes chooses a specific item, like a jacket, to smoke in outside and then removes it before coming in. Smoke can trigger asthma attacks and more coughing, which can cause further problems for his voice and impede his recovery from the pneumonia.”

Louis glances over at Harry, guilt coloring his face. He is the only one in our little group that smokes. By cuddling and sleeping with Harry, he has unwittingly put him at further risk for damaging his voice, and possibly even prolonged his illness.

“It is possible that he could have a contact ulcer from the endotracheal tube rubbing against his vocal cords while it was in place. It’s unlikely since the doctor had no trouble with the procedure, and also given the short time he was actually intubated, but I can't completely eliminate the possibility,” She frowns, closing Harry’s chart, “If things don’t improve in the next day or two, we can perform a laryngoscopy here in your room to get a better view of what's happening. It's a quick procedure, but it does tend to make patients gag and cough, which we certainly don't need you doing more of. Let's give it a couple more days to clear up before we schedule anything.”

Louis still looks stricken by the idea that he may have increased Harry’s suffering, but Harry seems stunned by a different comment.

“A couple of days?” he says, eyes wide, “Do you think I'll still be here for a couple more days?”

“Absolutely,” Dr. Khan says, leaning forward, “Harry, I don’t think you understand the seriousness of your situation. Pneumonia is never anything to take lightly, and your particular case, complicated by your asthma and strep, is even more serious. I understand your desire to get away from the hospital, especially now that your fans may be aware that you’re here. But certainly your health should be your primary focus. Leaving prematurely could cause you to be ill much longer, or cause your condition to become even more serious. I'm sure your friends and management will agree that staying here until you can be safely discharged is the only reasonable choice.”

Dr. Khan steps away from the bed, leaning forward to quickly shake Louis' hand, “Let me know if you or Harry have any further questions, or if you need me to clarify anything for your management team. Feel free to give them my phone and email information,” she states, handing Louis her card,

“I'm sure you’re sick of hearing it Harry,” she says, “but the most important thing you can do at this point is to rest. Paul has given me an idea of your schedule for the last few months, and explained what is expected of you in the coming months as well. All the touring, performing and traveling has no doubt taken its toll on your general health and left you vulnerable for this kind of serious issue. I won't release you from my care until I am sure you are at 100%. I have to tell you, I truly question the judgment of a management team that would handle any performer in such a manner. They are extremely lucky that your bandmates aren’t in the same condition.”

Paul and I thank her, and she leaves the room. Paul walks over to Louis' duffle bag and pulls out some fresh clothes. “Maybe you should take a quick shower Lou; get the smoke smell out of your hair and beard as well.”

“Yeah, sure, good idea,” Louis says, letting go of Harry’s hand and popping up from his chair, “Just give me a few minutes, Love,” he says, nodding at Paul and heading into the en suite.

I can’t help but notice that he doesn’t even look at Harry as he speaks, doesn’t kiss him or even smooth his hair as he always does.

Harry obviously notices as well. He turns to look out the window, his expression glum and dejected. “I thought maybe if they released me, he’d stay longer. We’d be less likely to get spotted; we could just stay in our room. It’d be easier to explain, too. We'd say he just came back a little early to finish some writing for the new album. But not now, not like this,” he gestures to all of the medical equipment, “It’s too personal. It’s all focused on me.”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes, “I’m tired,” He says quietly, turning away from Paul and me. “Make sure he has something for breakfast, would you? The greasier the better; the entire breakfast menu from McDonald’s should do,” he smiles sadly.

“What am I going to entice you with, Kiddo?” I say, attempting to tease him, “The last time I checked they didn’t have kale smoothies on the menu at the golden arches.”

“I’m fine,” he says.

“Oh no, not this ‘fine’ bullshit again. That's how we ended up here!” I tease, “At least some tea, please, Babe? Just start with that and we'll see where it goes.”

He shrugs, and I lean over and kiss his temple, “You nap, and I'll find a kettle.

Louis exits the restroom, rubbing his hair with a towel, “Forgot to pack a razor,” he says, rubbing his scruff, Paul, could you run me to a store to grab some things?”

“I’d be happy to go out and grab some things for you,” Paul says looking confused, “I’m sure you don’t want to leave Harry here. Can you just give me a list?”

“Harry's in good hands,” Louis says, patting me on the shoulder, “We’ll just be gone a few minutes. Maybe we can grab a proper kettle while we’re out, so we don’t have to put up with this microwave tea shit. Nothing worse, right Harry?”

Harry nods, but doesn’t turn to face us, “Sure Lou,” he whispers.

“Alright then, let’s go,” Louis says, strangely enthusiastic, pulling a knitted cap over his wet hair, “Back in a few, Mate.”

Paul stands up, still looking confused. He shakes his head at me and then follows Louis out the door.

I turn to Harry as the door shuts, and find he’s pulled his bedding up to cover his face, “Mate?! He called me 'Mate,' like I’m fucking Oli or something,” he sobs, “Why did he even come back here?!”

“Harry, Honey, I know you’re upset, you've every right. But try not to yell. Think of your voice,” I say, trying to be gentle.

“To hell with my voice,” he yells, his voice breaking painfully, “I hope it is ruined. Then they can’t make me sing anymore, can’t make me stand on that stage and sing the songs we’ve written for each other while everyone says they're about Eleanor or Taylor. Can’t make me sit by him in an interview while he makes jokes about our relationship, as if being with me would be some ridiculous joke. Mate! He called me Mate. He doesn’t even want me in private anymore.”

“Stop Baby,” I say sitting him up and gathering him against my shoulder, “He loves you, I know it, and so do you. I don’t know what’s happening in his head right now, but he does love you. You deserve better, no doubt, but I can’t let you tear yourself up over it right now, not in this condition.”

I sink my fingers into his rumpled curls, tenderly rubbing his neck, shushing him softly. The river of tears wear down to a drizzle, and finally exhaustion takes over.

“I can’t cry anymore,” he whispers, “I’m too tired.”

“Then sleep, Love,” I say, covering him with his blanket as he lays back, “Well this isn’t helping,” I say, noticing the clogged nasal cannula. I remove it and clean it up. He let’s me wipe his nose like a child, and then I replace the cannula, “I’ll be here," I say, "just sleep.”

“Thanks, Carly,” he replies, taking my hand and pulling it to his chest. His eyes flutter and finally shut, his red nose and swollen lips bearing witness to his broken heart, even in his sleep. 


	13. How Did We Get Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carly remembers Harry telling her how things between he and Louis had changed.

Harry turns to his side as he drifts off, ever the little spoon waiting for his big spoon. Once I'm sure that he is fully asleep, I pull my hand away and begin absently stroking his back. His breathing is a little better, but the raspy sound is still there. He shudders in between breaths a few times, no doubt the result of crying so hard.

I’m furious with Louis for putting him thru this, but I know it makes him just as miserable. Sure, I’ve seen him pull away from Harry before in interviews and onstage when Harry starts showing too much affection or staring too fondly, but this is a different situation. Harry is ill, critically so, and the thought of having Louis turn his back on him is affecting him so negatively; how can Louis even consider leaving him to suffer thru this without him?

I have to wonder what it would take for him to walk away from this false life he’s created. I can’t imagine what it is like for either of them to have to live within the boundaries of the phony life that has been scripted for them now. How can anyone who had seen them during the X-Factor days or those first months even believe that this is reality? The constant touching, sitting on each other’s laps, staring at each other. The way Louis had always led Harry thru crowds with his hand in the small of his back – how could anyone think it was anything less than love?

Harry once confessed to me in private that their management had hired an image consultant after their first tour to come in and make suggestions to help “correct” he and Louis’ image. He had suggested changes to their wardrobes and hairstyles; even made them watch videos of themselves so they could see the “offending” mannerisms that he said outed them as gay.

At first, they had both found the whole process laughable, giggling and joking thru each session. Then Simon had called them each into his office separately for a meeting.

Harry said his meeting with Simon had focused on how selfish it would be if they continued their current relationship. Simon told Harry that the future of One Direction would be lost if he and Louis refused to change the nature of their relationship. He told Harry that their fans (and their fan’s parents) would not accept two gay boys in the group, and that they would loose their marketability and the future they had worked so hard for. Worst of all, he had told Harry that he and Louis would be responsible for Liam, Niall and Zayn also losing their shot at fame and success, and all of the other people from their hair and makeup people to the set construction crews would loose their jobs if One Direction failed. All this, Simon insisted, for something that was most likely a simple crush; a bromance that had gone too far. Harry said the conversation had weighed heavily on him; he didn’t want to be responsible for ruining the hopes and dreams of his bandmates, and didn’t want to cost all of the people that worked with them their employment.

Louis’ meeting with Simon had taken a darker, more threatening turn, although Harry said initially Louis had refused to discuss it, even with him. Simon had used all of the guilt inducing drivel he had used on Harry, but had taken it a step further. While Harry’s confidence had grown with their success, Louis still struggled with self esteem issues. Simon had picked up on this fact and used it to manipulate Louis. He convinced Louis that he could easily be replaced if he and Harry refused to cooperate with their management’s efforts to refashion their image. Simon compared Louis to a back-up singer, stating that his selection of Louis from the group of boys on the X-Factor was really just a random choice, and that he could have taken any one of the young men from that group and slid them into Louis’ spot with equal success. He made Louis believe that his voice and talent were nothing special. Simon knew how important it was to Louis to be able to help his family; to enable them to attend the best private schools and help them start their own careers. He told Louis that he would be sacrificing all of his siblings’ futures just to indulge in a short lived teen fling.

With the support of his mother, Harry had quickly realized Simon’s statements were based on his own homophobic views. Harry was sure that he and Louis could serve as positive role models in the LGBTQ community, showing their fans the true meaning of acceptance and love. Harry decided to express his truths by being even more demonstrative with his affection for Louis, and by indulging his passion for a more feminine appearance with floral shirts, Gucci suits and long curly hair.

Louis, however, could not get past the idea that his career existed solely on Simon’s whim. He had been insecure about his talent before, but now he was riddled with self doubt. Though his own mother had always been supportive of them being together, Louis was embarrassed to share what Simon had said to him with her. He eventually told Harry that he was afraid she too would think him selfish, but that she might support him even if she thought it would be detrimental to the band their family. She loved him too much, Louis told Harry, and for that reason, he had to go along with Simon’s wishes and protect them all.Although he was still as in love with Harry as he had always been, he felt certain that following Simon’s plan for “manning up his image” was the only way to secure both his success and his place in One Direction.

Though Harry was hurt by the idea of having to continually lie about their relationship, he was too in love with Louis to insist on going public and risk having Louis reject the ultimatum. It was horrible for both of them; Harry felt that Louis was ashamed of him and their relationship, and Louis constantly felt the pressure of maintaining the lie while trying to assure Harry that he still felt as strongly about him as ever.

Right now, it all seemed like an impossible task. Louis had seen Harry when he was intubated and fighting for every breath. He had seen how much Harry needed him, and how much he was struggling. If he could be pulled away this easily, how would Harry deal with it? I was angry on his behalf, but Harry seemed sadly resigned to being treated as an after thought.

I was beginning to regret my reassurances to him that Louis loved him. After all, how could anyone treat someone they loved this way? I hate that I’ve been dragged into this lie that is hurting both of them so much, but my main concern is Harry. I’m afraid that if Louis runs back to London, Harry will fall into a depression that will make it much harder for him to recover.

I sit watching him sleep, still stroking his back as his soft snores are broken up by gentle sighs and periodic coughs. I try to imagine what I will say to him if Louis comes back and announces he’s leaving. How will I make things okay? How will I encourage him to work towards recovery alone? Aside from all that, how could they ever work together again? How could Harry stand on stage in front of all their fans singing love songs he’d written to a man who had walked out on him when he needed him most?


	14. Louis Steps Away

Two hours pass with no sign of Louis returning. Harry begins to cough more frequently, and eventually wakes himself when a particularly strong gasp causes him to grab his ribs. He sits up painfully, his eyes searching the room.

“He’s not back yet, Hun,” I say, “Can I help?”

He shakes his head, unable to speak as the cough deepens and continues to cut into his ability to breath. I press the call light for the nurse as his breathing gets more labored.

Julie taps on the door and peeks in. “Alright, Harry, let’s get some help in here,” she says. She calls for a breathing treatment as she sits Harry’s bed up and I try to coax him to slow his breathing.

I get a pillow between his hand and ribs, and he suddenly clutches my wrist with his other hand, a bit of panic registering on his face. I take his chin with my other hand, forcing him to look at me.

“Slow, Hun,” I say, taking an exaggerated breath, “Just like this. Breathe with me, come on, you’ve got this.”

He can’t, of course. The cough is relentless and his lips are getting darker when the respiratory therapist pops thru the door.

She takes one look at him and shreds open the mask, starting the flow of medication as soon as it touches his face. Julie and I watch in silence for a few moments until he starts to improve.

“I’ll talk to the Doctor,” she says, “we’re going to have to increase the frequency of his breathing treatments. We my have backed off too soon. I'll get x-ray in here when we're done. I know the lab has been waiting to draw some blood. I didn’t want them to wake him, but we need to get it done now.”

Harry's grip on my arm loosens as the medication eases his airway. A few minutes pass and he's merely holding my hand, laying back into his pillow with his eyes closed, still holding his ribs with his other hand.

A portable x-ray machine is rolled in as his treatment finishes, and I find myself shuffled out into the hallway. I stare down toward the nurses station, hoping to see Louis and Paul returning, but there are only busy nurses and security guards. A lab tech joins me as I wait, and as the radiology equipment rolls out, he and I pass back in.

I help Harry adjust his oxygen tubing as the lab tech searches for a vein to draw from. We are lucky this time, and he gets the draw after only three tries. I watch as Harry’s eyes burn a hole thru the door, waiting for Louis' return.

Last, Julie comes in with a tray of food and sets it on the bedside table. “We’ve got to make this work, Harry. You've got to eat something. You've got to start drinking. We've plateaued here; you’re not improving. You’ve got to try harder,” she says sternly, “I’m going to give you some pain medication. Take advantage of the relief to help you get started.”

She adds the medication to his IV line and slides the table in front of him. “Call me if you need something,” she says, softer now, “If you think of something else that might sound better, let me know.” She slips quietly from the room as I uncover the food.

“Alright, Kiddo,” I say, dropping the tea bag into the cup of hot water, “Let’s start with something simple. Oatmeal, maybe?”

He nods, his eyes beginning to water. “Anything,” he says quietly, “doesn’t matter.”

I stir the bowl, blowing on it to cool it down, then add a little milk and sugar, like I’ve seen him do backstage in the catering area.

“I can feed myself,” he says as I lift the spoon to his mouth.

“I know, Hun, but this way you can keep some pressure on your ribs and keep them comfortable. I promise not to drip it down your lovely hospital gown,” I tease.

He gives me a tiny smile, then opens up for a small bite. He swallows with a grimace, but doesn’t complain. We work thru a couple more bites, then he reaches for his tea, removing the tea bag and leaning back.

His eyes drift to the window. He stares out, holding the cup, his eyes further welling up. He’s yet to take a drink a few minutes later when I finally reach out and take the cup away.

“Harry? Come on, Babe, we’re going to have to do better than that,” I coax, “I know you’re hurting, and I know you’re upset, but you are so strong, Hun. You can get thru this, even if you have to do it without him right beside you. He’s always right there, in your heart,” I say, touching his chest, “I know you can push thru this.”

“I can, I just don’t want to,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’m tired of doing it alone. I want him to support me when I need him, not just when he’s allowed to. I want him to love me, openly and honestly, not just hidden away in secret. I’d do it for him if he'd let me. I’d cover his face in kisses on every stage in the world. Sing all my truths in the love songs I write for him, openly serenading him everywhere we went. Not only can he not give me the love I need, but he won’t take it from me either. I’m tired of telling myself it’s okay. It’s not. It’s killing me.”

The tears that had been welling up began to break free, but he shook his head and wiped them away, “I’m sick of crying,” he says simply, “I don’t care what happens. Just leave me be.”

“Harry, you don’t mean that….” I start, but he cuts me off, suddenly lashing out, shoving the tray off of the table, the dishes scattering on the floor.

“I do mean it! I’m not some lovesick schoolboy! I’m a grown man, watching the person I love being ripped from my heart, twisted and manipulated for another man’s gain,” he’s trying to yell, but his voice is cracking and breaking, “As long as we’re in love, they can use him this way. The only way out is to stop loving each other. Then there's nothing they can hold over us. No false promises of compromise or future freedom. But I can’t do it! I can’t stop loving him. Can’t stop needing him. If we can’t be together, then nothing else matters. I just can’t do it Carly, I can’t.”

Julie comes thru the door, having been alerted by the clatter of dishes, “What happened?” she asks, bending to pick up the mess.

“I bumped the table,” I lie, standing to help her, “I’m so sorry. But he was doing really well, had some oatmeal and tea before I made a mess of it.”

“That’s good then,” she says, “Don’t worry about this, I'll send somebody in to clean it up.”

“I need to use the toilet,” Harry says, suddenly tossing the covers back. He swings his legs out of bed and sways, then starts to pitch forward.

“Woah, Harry, stop!” Julie blurts out, lunging forward to break his fall. She slips her leg between his, preventing him from tumbling forward but inadvertently catching his broken ribs with her hip. Harry cries out in pain and collapses back on to the bed.

“Harry!” I shout, rushing to the other side of the bed, “Babe you can’t do that! You've got to wait for someone to help you!”

The pain has knocked the wind out of him. Julie lifts his legs back up onto the mattress, and he immediately curls into a ball. I bend down to try and get eye level with Harry, but his eyes are closed, and he’s doing that horrible silent cry, the kind where you know someone is truly hurting.

I look back up at Julie, who is already radioing for help. “We’ve had a bit of an accident in room 429; can we get CT in here for a portable chest STAT?” she instructs, her eyes pouring over Harry's shaking frame. She pulls the side rail up on Harry’s bed to prevent any further falls and grabs for the trash can to clean up the mess on the floor to clear a path for the CAT Scan.

Harry finally draws breath, shuttering out an exhale and clutching his chest, “I'm sorry,” he groans out, “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Julie asks, incredulously, “Yes, I’m fine. I didn’t just take a blow to a pair of broken ribs. The question is are you okay?”

Harry nods, grimacing, “Fine,” he says, “still need a wee, though.” Julie and I both give a nervous laugh, and the tension in the room eases.

“Fine; there's that word again. I’m beginning to think you don’t know what that word means!” I say.

Another piece of equipment rolls in, and the young lad pushing it quickly starts setting it up. Julie lays Harry’s bed down explaining what to expect as she goes.

“Its sort of like an advanced x-ray,” she tells him, “ it gives more detail, but it takes longer. We just need to make sure the fractures in your ribs haven’t become displaced after our collision.” She turns to me now, “Carly, can you…” she gestures toward the door.

“Be right back Hun,” I say to Harry as I step out into the hallway. I decide to take the opportunity to call Paul and see what’s happening with Louis. Paul answers on the second ring, his voice filled with concern.

“Hey, Carly, everything okay with Harry? “ he asks.

“Not exactly, Paul. What's going on? What's taking so long?” I reply.

“Louis has a plan. He’s working on something, but he’s not telling me all of the details either. I’m hoping we’ll all be pleasantly surprised,” Paul states.

“I better be fucking amazed, because Harry seems to be working on a plan, too, and it involves a path to self destruction. He’s having a CAT Scan done right now, since he decided to try to fall out of bed and get cracked in the ribs. He's convinced Louis is going to leave again, and he’s just giving up,” Paul groans at the info, “Do you think he’s taking off?”

“No, I’m pretty sure that’s not the case,” Paul responds, “I’ll tell Louis that Harry’s doing poorly again. I'll get him back there.”

“Thanks Paul,” I say, “See you soon, then.” 


	15. A Setback Alone

A few more minutes pass before the tech leaves with the equipment. Julie holds the door open but stops me from entering. She leans in to me, speaking quietly in my ear.

“It’s not good news,” she states, “We transmitted the images to the radiologist, and she says the ribs are still aligned, but there is a partial atelectasis on the left side – the lung is collapsing due to fluid building up; maybe from his broken ribs or maybe from the pneumonia itself. Dr. Khan is coming down. He’s having a really hard time breathing now. I need you to help him keep going, at least until Dr. Khan can decide the best thing to do. In the meantime, I told him I would get him a urinal.”

I head into the room as she starts down the hall. Harry is propped up, sitting with his knees drawn up, arms wrapped around his belly. Julie has attached an oxygen monitor to his finger, and the readout looks abysmal. I pull a chair up to his bedside.

“Louis and Paul are on their way back,” I say, resting my hand on his arms.

He nods, eyes closed, “You called him, didn’t you? You made him come back.”

“No, I called Paul,” I say, “Have faith.” He smirks at me, shaking his head.

Julie returns with a urinal. “Alright, Harry,” she says, “can you get this or do you want help?”

“One thing I think I can do by myself,” he huffs out. Julie hands him the urinal and he moves gingerly to the edge of the bed.

“I have to stay close by,” she says apologetically, “Can’t have you falling.”

I walk over to the window and busy myself digging thru my bag, pretending to look for something. By the time Julie gets Harry situated back in bed, he is flushed and out of breath.

I put my bag back down and move over to the chair beside the bed. Harry is still struggling, still unable to catch his breath. I understand Julie’s concern now, as I haven’t seen him this out of breath or his stats this low since the night we brought him to the emergency room.

Julie glances back at me and nods towards Harry. I nod back, and she heads out the door with the urinal.

Harry reaches for my hand, “I’m so sorry,” he gasps out, “ I’m an asshole.”

“No, Hun, I understand why you’re upset,” I reply, “I can’t say I know how you feel, but I can understand how frustrated and upset you must be, especially feeling the way you do. Don’t worry about what happened.”

He shakes his head and tries to speak again, but I stop him. “Don’t talk, just breathe.”

“What’s happening, Carly? Why is it so much harder to breathe?” he says struggling, “It’s starting to scare me.”He tries to give a little laugh, which ends up coming out as a choking sound.

“I’m not sure, Hun. I think your cracked ribs might be making it hard for you to take deep enough breaths. Dr. Khan is coming to look at the CT scan; she’ll be able to tell us,” I say, trying to sound reassuring.

I’m lying a little, but telling him his lung is collapsing sounds too terrifying. Worse yet is the fix, if we have to go there. Even the most seasoned medical people shudder at the thought of a chest tube. Only the skin incision can be numbed with a local. The rest is sheer pain; a tube forced thru the ribs into the space next to the lung to remove the fluid and allow the lung to inflate. No sedation or pain medication can be given as it would suppress the patient’s already dangerously shallow breathing. As angry as I am with Louis, I’d give anything to have him come thru the door right now. I know the only one who wants him more is Harry.

Dr. Khan bursts into the room, no knock, with a few other staff members and some equipment. Her usually calm demeanor is completely gone.

“Harry, I’m sorry to do this like this, but we’re going to have to move quickly. I’ll try to explain as we go along but your lung is collapsing and we have to move fast,” her hair is flying out at the sides, and she looks uncharacteristically panicked.

Her staff is flying around her, arranging equipment. Julie is among the staff, and attempts to shoo me out of the room, “Carly if you can just go…”

Harry reaches out, barely able to speak, his eyes huge, “No, no stay,” he chokes out.

“Let me stay, please, I’m a medical professional; I’ve seen dozens of these,” I plead, “Please let me stay, and I’ll help keep him calm.”

Dr. Khan hesitates and then nods. I rush to put on a protective gown with the others and return to Harry.

Dr. Khan has kept up a running commentary to Harry, explaining what’s going to happen. They’ve laid the bed flat by the time I return. I move quickly to the head of the bed so I can make eye contact with him throughout the procedure.

They have him turned slightly to his right side, altering the incision site due to his fractured ribs. His arm is extended over his head and lightly taped in place at the wrist to prevent him from flinching and moving in response to the pain. One of the nurses begins cleaning his side with betadine, a big splash of the orange and brown fluid staining his unusually pale flesh. They’re moving as quickly as they can. She throws a sterile drape over him and lines up the area for Dr. Khan to make the incision.

“I’m here, Babe,” I say, slipping my hand into his, “You can do this. It’s going to be so much better soon.”

He’s making a slight keening sound, part fear, part pain. I see Dr. Khan pulling up the local.

“Remember what we talked about, Harry, you mustn’t move.” She presses the needle into his tender flesh and begins injecting. He cries out a little, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m sorry for the burn, Hun, but we just can’t go slow right now,” she says, pulling up a second syringe. She immediately begins injecting, but this time he holds back, no sound escaping.

When she finishes he opens his eyes, now wet and wide. Dr. Khan is narrating what she's doing to her staff as she begins the skin incision between Harry's ribs. For this part, I know he's numb and for that I'm grateful. But as soon as the tissue is open, she slips her gloved finger into the incision, forcing it through the space next to his ribs and he gasps. He flinches slightly and cries out. A nurse is pulling open the tubing that will slip into the space as soon as she finds it.

Harry cries out louder as her finger searches for the right spot. Suddenly there is a ruckus outside the door and I hear Louis' voice booming in the hallway. The door flies open and two of the staff members rush towards it to stop him from flying into the sterile space in the room.

Paul is behind him, and I see him drop a handful of bags and grab Louis around the waist. Suddenly Louis is struggling, all four limbs flailing.

“What’s happening?!” Louis shouts, “Why are you hurting him? Put me down! Let me go to him!”

Julie rushes to join the others surrounding Louis, “His lung collapsed,” she explains, “They've got to insert a tube to pull the fluid off and there's no way to put him under without crumping his breathing completely. He's in pain, but we have no other choice. It'll go quickly, and then you can go to him once the incision is closed. You've got to either calm down or get out.”

Harry cries out sharply, the pain peaking as Dr. Khan inserts the tube between his ribs, “Just another minute Harry, I promise,” she says.

Louis goes limp in Paul's arms, watching helplessly as Harry is seemingly tortured before him. Finally, the doctor’s tube hits its mark and she stops.

“We’ve got it Harry,” she says, securing the tube quickly with a few stitches and a dressing. The tubing is attached to drainage, the surgical drapes are pulled off of him, his taped wrist freed.

Julie comes quietly over, fitting Harry with a clean hospital gown. His body is limp and exhausted under her hands, covered in a sheen of sweat. He is still silently weeping.

Dr. Khan is watching his oxygen saturation reading. “We’ll need another x-ray to confirm placement,” Dr. Khan states, as the staff around her cleans up and exits. She turns to Louis, “You can join us,” she says, “but be very gentle.”

Louis gives one final wrench and frees himself from Paul’s arms. Once his feet hit the floor, he stops struggling and walks quietly to Harry's side.

A nurse is placing an oxygen mask on Harry’s face, and Louis softly cups his cheeks with both hands, “Harry? Love?” he says softly, searching his face. Harry shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly.

I stand and give my seat to Louis, moving over to Paul as I pull off the sterile gown. Paul is gathering the bags he dropped when he stopped Louis from storming the room.

I watch as the nurses try to sit Harry’s bed up a little, but every movement causes him to gasp and flail as much as his faded strength allows. Dr. Khan is trying to reason with him, trying to get him to breathe and open his eyes, but he’s not having it. We finally manage to get a quick x-ray to check the tube placement and thankfully it is in place.

After a few more minutes of struggling, Louis moves in closer, sliding past the staff trying to soothe and pacify Harry. “Let me in, Babes,” he says, sliding under the covers where Harry is facing him.

“No, Mr. Thomlinson,” Dr. Khan warns, “I can’t have you dislodge that tube.”

Louis gives her a look usually reserved for the rudest of interviewers and the most vile paparazzi, “Your people are the one’s upsetting him,” he says calmly, “Let me take care of Harry. I know him much better than you do.”

Louis slips off his shoes and reaches around Harry, sliding him upright. Harry is so exhausted and distraught that he’s like a rag doll in his arms. Paul gently holds him up for a moment as Louis slides his leg around him, and then pulls him to his chest. Harry is so spent he hardly registers the activity. He is literally too weak and out of breath to continue crying. He finally tips his head back and opens his eyes for Louis.

“There’s my Baby,” Louis coos, kissing his forehead and gathering him up gently in his arms, “What a brave boy.”

Louis leans back into the pillows, cautiously pulling Harry with him, “I’m so sorry, Love, I thought you were getting better.” Louis cradles him, rocking him ever so gently.

“Rest now, Baby Boy,” Louis hums, resting his lips tenderly on Harry’s temple, “cuddle up, Love, and when you wake I’ll have a lovely surprise for you.”

Harry wilts into Louis’ arms, his anxiety melting. His eyes flicker and close, his tears drying on his cheeks. Paul and I watch as Louis works his magic, and I’m relieved to see that there is no hesitation in his touch. Whatever held him back before his trip away from the hospital has been resolved, and Harry has his champion again.

It takes only a few minutes for Harry to drift off in Louis embrace. Paul pulls a lovely down-soft blanket from one of the bags, arranging it over the two of them. Now it’s Louis' eyes that fill with tears, reliving the moments from a few minutes prior.


	16. A Frank Discussion

“Somebody please tell me what the fuck happened,” Louis says quietly, his voice shaking. His fingers are still smoothing Harry’s curls away from his face.

“We were talking, and I was trying to get him to eat a little. He...got upset,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “Then he tried to stand and almost fell. Julie broke his fall, but his side hit her hip. He had some fluid buildup in that left lung anyway; probably the combination of things caused his lung to collapse.”

Most of the medical staff has left the room now. Julie is still checking the drainage from Harry’s lung and monitoring his oxygen status.

Paul chooses this moment to become uncharacteristically interested in the things that are in the bags he carried in. He stands up and moves away from our conversation, unpacking the items onto the little table in the room.

“Do you want me to make some tea, Louis?” He asks, pulling out an electric kettle and a box of Yorkshire tea.

Louis nods, but doesn’t break eye contact with me. Paul moves away with the kettle, filling it in the nearby sink.

“What was he upset about? Louis asks, “Did it have to do with me?”

I glance over at Paul, and he gives a little shrug without actually looking at me. I close my eyes, trying to think of what to say. Earlier, I was sure there would be some sort of dressing down when I finally got my hands on Louis. But watching him now, tears rolling slowly over his cheeks, Harry nestled softly in his arms, the fight has drained out of me. Yet, thinking of Harry, with all he's been through but still being afraid to ask for what he really needs - I won't betray him and make little of all his sacrifices.

“Yes, of course it was about you. I won’t lie to you,” I finally say.

“I knew he was mad at me when we left,” Louis whispers.

“No, not mad at you. More like mad for you? Not really mad, actually, more sad. Frustrated and sad. And disappointed. Trying to accept that the crumbs of affection and attention you give him are the most you can give. Trying to come to terms with the fact that the love you share will always be the second most important thing in your life,” I say, and the sting in his expression looks worse than if I’d slapped him.

“That's not true,” he's sputters out, “You know that's not true!”

“When I see you with him like this?” I respond, gesturing toward them, “I can believe he is your whole world. But when I see you in interviews, denying him and laughing about there being anything between you? It’s a little bit hard to fathom it.”

“But that's not fair!” he says, “Those aren't my words; that's not what I want to say!”

“And yet you say it. Over and over. Every time your asked,” I raise my voice without realizing it, “I remember seeing the days when you did and said exactly what you wanted. I remember you pulling him onto your lap, playing with his curls, be damned who was watching. I remember seeing those tender moments, with your hand in the small of his back leading him through a crowd, protecting him, guiding him. Now, you can’t even stand beside him without looking guilty. How is it that you could have been so much more confident then than you are now? What is he supposed to think? The one time he denied your relationship, or really just denied that the photos he was being shown were real, was in that interview without you, when you told him he absolutely had to do it, and then all he could do was cry on Niall's shoulder after, even with the cameras still rolling. And now, he just refuses to lie. But your management knows he won’t have to, because they can count on you to disregard him in favor of them every time.”

“Inside voices, people,” Julie chastises, and I jump, having forgotten she was still in the room.

Harry shifts slightly in Louis’ arms, his eyebrows furrowing. Louis’ attention is drawn immediately to him, and he coos softly, hushing him with whispers and soft kisses. Harry’s face softens, and he slides back into slumber.

Julie finishes her review of Harry’s equipment and reminds us again to be cautious of the chest tube, and to keep him and ourselves calm and quiet. She leaves for the nurses station just as Paul starts putting his jacket on.

“Heading back to the hotel?” I ask him.

“No, back to the airport,” he says, glancing up at Louis. Louis finally takes his eyes off Harry's face to glance back at me,

“Had our mom’s flown in,” he says, “Thought it would be good for Harry to see Anne, and frankly, I kind of wanted me own mum here as well. That was the first call I made in the hallway when I left. I wanted to surprise him. I’m not quite the callous bastard you think I am.”

“Never said you were, Louis,” I respond, trying to hold my temper, “I just think that somewhere along the way you were convinced that being yourself wasn’t good enough, and Harry got drug along on that ride with you.”

He continues to burn a hole thru me with his stare as Paul makes a clever exit, the door clicking shut behind him.

“I’ve never stopped him from doing whatever he wants to do. He dresses how he wants, wears his hair how he pleases, dances with rainbow flags down the runway of every stage we perform on. He has my full support. He knows it.”

“Your full support in generically supporting the LGBTQ community, and in his personal appearance. Very brave of you,” I retort, “When he gets asked about his sexuality, he makes some random, wandering statement that he doesn’t feel like he’s bi, or that he doesn’t feel like he’s ever had to explain it. He stops short of saying he’s gay. Why do you really think that is? Do you think it’s for his sake? Or do you think it’s because he knows that if he made any kind of definitive statement, all eyes would turn to you? You’ve made it clear; you aren’t ready for that kind of announcement. He’s too in love with you to push the issue. He’d never make you uncomfortable. He’d rather let you make fun of the idea of the two of you having a relationship. He’d rather feel like you don’t love him enough or that he’s not worthy of being linked with you publicly.”

Louis clears his throat, looking back down into Harry’s sleeping face, “Is that what he said to you?” He finally whispers.

“Do you mean before, or after he shattered the tray of dishes?” I say, giving the nearby trash bin a quick tap with my foot.

Louis closes his eyes and sighs, then asks again, “Just tell me. What did he say?”

“He told me he wanted to be left alone. That he could handle being ill and struggling to get better alone, but he didn’t want to. He said he hoped his voice would be ruined so that they couldn’t make him stand next to you and pour his heart out in love songs you write for each other and then have to pretend they’re for some make believe girl friend,” I blurt out, wondering if I’ve gone too far.

Louis rocks his head back into the pillows, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes, “God, Harry,” he moans softly, hugging him closer, “I never meant for it to be this way. I never meant to make you feel – I mean, if anything, I’ve always felt like he deserved so much better than me.”

“He doesn’t want better than you, Louis,” I say, resting my hand on his arm, “He just wants all of you.”

I hear the kettle and stand up to catch it before it gets loud enough to wake Harry. I set up two cups and carry one back to Louis, setting it carefully to the side to cool a bit.

“I’m trying to find a way to make things better,” he says softly, “That’s another reason I asked our mum’s to come. For support, and advice. Seeing him like this, and now, knowing how much it’s tearing him up; things can’t keep going this way.”

“It's not just about him though Louis,” I say, “it's about you too. It's not good for you either, you know it's true.”

“We have to think about the other boys, too, and our families,” Louis states, chewing his lip, “We have to do what’s best for everybody. It’s a lot of responsibility. And I don’t want to disappoint the fans either. Everything about One Direction could be affected.”

“Wow, Louis, talk about the weight of the world!” I say, “it’s not like there isn’t at least half of the fandom who already have a pretty good idea that you and Harry have always been a couple. You weren’t always as withdrawn from each other as you are these days. It's not like finding out about your relationship would change your voices, or the music! The other boys have had relationships, too. Liam and Zayn have both had a couple of break-ups with girls that the fandom liked, and it hasn't been the end of the world. The truth is, in some ways I think you’re alienating the fans who believe in you and Harry. I think at some point, they’ll get tired of being lied to, of being told that they’re delusional, and of being insulted and bullied when your publicists take over your Twitter accounts and snap back at them, making fun of them for believing in ‘Larry’ and pretending that they're seeing things that just aren't there. This whole thing could really backfire on you.”

“Right now, the most important thing to me is Harry. I can't have him getting depressed and giving up on himself. I guess he's a lot sicker than I thought he was, and he's going to need all of his strength and mine, too, to get better,” Louis says tenderly, stroking Harry’s forehead.

“I agree with you there,” I reply, “and I want you to know that I will do whatever I can for both of you. But I have to know that your heart is in the right place, and that you really do plan to follow through with this once Harry is well enough. I won't help you build up his hopes just to toss him to the side once he's healed.”

“No, I mean it. I’ve already set a plan in motion,” Louis says determinedly, “This time I’m making sure we won’t be held back.”


	17. The Mums Arrive

Our conversation dwindles after that. I find myself dozing in the chair, and Louis suggests I take up residence in the recliner since he is there to look after Harry. I move over and cover up with my sweatshirt.

An hour into my nap, the radiology team returns to get a chest x-ray to see how Harry's lung is improving. It takes several minutes to maneuver Louis out from behind him.

Harry wakes up a little confused and again in pain, but handles it well as he gets set up for the X-ray. His eyes follow Louis who nods and smiles in encouragement. Once everything is set up, Louis and I are sent into the hallway.

Louis takes the opportunity to run to the restroom, and I pull out my phone. As Louis had predicted, the twins are gleefully posting video to their Instagram stories of their train trip down to London to go shopping with Eleanor. A lot of fans are posting get well messages to Harry, even though there’s been no official announcement about what happened or what’s wrong.

Out of the corner of my eye I see two female figures coming down the hallway, linked arm and arm. For a brief moment I’m afraid we’ve been outed by fans, but when I look up I see the undeniable face of Louis' mom Jay, partially obscured by her beautiful chestnut hair. The other woman is wearing a jacket with a hood, but when she looks up I can tell it's definitely Harry's mother Anne.

Paul rounds the corner behind them, announcing them to the security guards and nurses station as he goes past. He jogs to catch up with them just as they get to me.

“You’ve no idea how glad I am to see you both,” I say, hugging them in turn, “We have to stay out for a minute; they’re doing another x-ray of Harry’s chest,” I explain.

“How is he?” Anne asks, still holding my arm.

“He’s struggling,” I answer, trying to be honest without causing her undue panic, “This x-ray will show us if the chest tube is working well enough.”

“Chest tube?” Jay says, cringing, “My God. Poor Harry.”

“Chest tube?” Anne echoes, “What does that mean exactly?” She looks to me and then to Jay.

“His lung collapsed,” I explain briefly, “They had to insert a tube between his ribs to drain the fluid off around it so it would inflate. They numb the area, but it’s still painful.”

“Agony,” Jay corrects me, shuddering, “Was Louis able to stay with him?”

“He…wasn’t here then,” I say.

“What?” Jay says, “Where else would he be?”

“Making arrangements for you, Mummy dear,” Louis says, coming up behind her and hugging her around the waist, “Hello, Anne,” he says reaching for her and pulling her into their hug, “so glad you’re both here.”

Harry's room door opens as they break their hug, and the radiology technician rolls the x-ray equipment back out into the hallway.

Anne starts for the door but Louis catches her hand. “I want to surprise him,” Louis says, “but I don’t want to shock him too much. He’s still very tired and fragile. How about you go in first,” he says gesturing to me, “maybe sit down next to him take his hand, and then I'll come in with our mums.” He turns to Anne, “I know you're anxious to see him, but I don't want him to get too worked up. He's having a hard time breathing, so we've been trying to keep everything calm and quiet.”

Jay throws her arm around his shoulder, “All right,” she says, “Who are you and what have you done with my son?” We all laugh and Jay gives him another quick squeeze, “I’ve never seen you like this, so serious, so responsible! Not sure if I should be proud or worried.”

Louis smiles and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Go ahead,” he says to me, “Let’s let the mums start the codling.”

I open the door and head over toward Harry's bed. Looking at him now, I realize how small and exhausted he looks. I'm thinking that his appearance will be quite a shock to the boy’s mums, especially Anne.

I barely reach the bed when I hear the door open, and Louis is entering with one visitor on each arm, “Look who I found in the hallway,” he says, and a beautiful smile breaks over Harry’s face as tears fill his eyes.

“Mum,” Harry says, his voice cracking and muffled by the oxygen mask.

Anne pales, stopping short for a moment. Jay catches her reaction and shoots forward to cover Anne's shock.

“What’s all this?” she says, hugging him gently, “my goodness, Love, if you wanted us to visit you needn’t have gone to all this trouble.” She runs her fingers thru his hair, but I see her glancing over the equipment. As a nurse I know she is taking a mental inventory, assessing the potential seriousness of his condition.

Harry snuggles her for a moment, still looking at his own mum over her shoulder, “Mum?” he says again, and Anne breaks her trance, smiling and sitting on the edge of the bed.

“My Baby,” she says, pulling him into her shoulder. Harry trembles as he melts into her embrace. Anne rests her hand on the back of his neck, gently massaging his curls.

Harry pulls back slightly, tears rolling softly over the sides of his face, “You didn’t have to come all this way,” he says, “but I’m so glad to see you.”

Anne pulls him back to her shoulder, “Couldn’t keep me away,” she whispers.

Paul comes in from the hallway and heads for the tea kettle, “Think you could drink some tea, Harry?” he offers, “Ladies? We found some Yorkshire tea in a local import shop.” Jay nods, and Louis digs thru one of the bags from their previous trip for some cups and spoons.

Louis brings a cup to Harry, stirring carefully and blowing to cool it down. Harry leans back into the bed and shakes his head, so Louis hands the cup to Anne. “He really needs to start drinking,” he says to Anne, “And I know he'll mind his mum.”

Anne smiles up at Louis and then raises her eyebrows at Harry, “Alright then, Love, you heard Boo Bear.” Harry smiles and reaches for the cup as Louis groans and rolls his eyes. Paul and Louis continue passing out tea, and Jay signals me to come closer to her.

“So, what are we looking at?” she asks quietly, “he looks pretty rough. What are they saying?”

I list out for her the diagnosis so far, and her concern is evident. With her medical knowledge, she recognizes how serious Harry’s condition is, and how precarious his situation could be. I want to talk to her about Harry’s emotional outburst earlier, and how hard it has been for him to have Louis push away when he needs him most, but I hesitate. I know Jay loves Harry, and she has even called herself a second mother to him, but Louis is her own flesh and blood, and her firstborn to boot.

As our conversation lags, we both turn our attention to Anne and Harry. His eyes are still teary as Anne tenderly strokes his jawline under the oxygen mask. Where Louis has the characteristics of oldest and first born, Harry is definitely the baby in his family. He turns softly into his mother’s gentle touch, closing his eyes. Were it not for the chest tube and myriad of wires and IV line, I’m sure she would have had him in her arms.

There is a tap on the door, and Dr. Khan enters. Louis introduces Anne and Jay, and Dr. Khan leans against the table reviewing the papers on her clipboard.

“Your lung looks better already, Harry,” she says, “If things continue this way we should be able to remove the tube in a day or so. I’m glad to see you with a cup in your hand,” she gestures to his tea, “please try to keep up those efforts. I’m going to increase your pain medication, so that should make it more comfortable to swallow.” She pulls out her stethoscope and checks his vital signs.

“When can I go home?” Harry asks.

“I can’t even guess at this point,” she replies, “and even when you are discharged, you'll have restrictions for a few weeks. I’m sure your fiancé and family will want you completely healthy before you get thrown back into that schedule again. I won’t release you until I’m convinced your body is ready.”

She tucks her clipboard under her arm and shakes hands all around.

“My mom's a nurse back home in England,” Louis mentions when Dr. Khan reaches for Jay's hand.

Dr. Khan smiles at Jay, “Great! Maybe you can help me convince Mr. Styles here that he needs to take it easy and give himself some time.”

“I’ll certainly work on that,” Jay responds. “I’ll have the nurse switch your oxygen back to the nasal cannula so you don’t have to fight the mask,” she adds, “That should make it easier to eat as well.”

Harry nods, but doesn’t manage to smile. He turns to Louis as soon as the doctor makes her exit. “I want to go back to the hotel, Lou,” he says, eyes glassy with tears and face getting blotchy, “I can rest there! I don’t need to stay here. Carly and your mom are both here; I have plenty of medical supervision. Please, Lou!”

“Harry, Love, be reasonable,” Louis starts, moving closer to the bed and reaching for Harry's hands.

Harry shoves his hands away and begins sobbing, “I want to go home with you!” he chokes out.

Louis looks at Anne and she strokes Harry’s back as she stands up, making room for Louis to sit next to him. Louis moves to the bed, sitting next to Harry and carefully gathering him up into his arms. Harry is shaking his head, his damp curls bouncing.

“What brought this on, pet?” Louis asks, gently rocking Harry in his arms, “We’ve talked about this, remember? I’m staying right here with you.”

“You won’t though,” Harry chokes out, “As soon as they tell you to, you’ll run back to London.”

“Oh Baby,” Louis says, running his hand over Harry’s back, “I know things have been rough between us, and I’m so sorry that I haven’t always let you know how important you are to me, but Love, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I promise I’m going to make sure that you never have reason to doubt it again.”

Julie taps on the door and then opens it. She closes it softly behind her and walks over to the bed. “What happened?” she asks, frowning with concern, “Are you in pain, Harry?”

Harry is still pressed into Louis’ shoulder, trembling and tearful. He pulls back a little and shakes his head, “I’m okay,” he murmurs.

“I really can’t have you getting worked up like this, Harry,” she says, “Your poor lung is already struggling and we don’t want it to collapse again. If having everybody around is going to upset you like this, I'm afraid we're going to have to have everybody leave for a bit. Maybe it would be better if they went home for tonight and came back in the morning.”

“No,” Harry says, eyes going wide, “I need them.” He buries his fists in the sides of Louis shirt, “If they have to leave, then I won’t stay.”

“Let’s make a deal,” she says, “I have some pain medicine Dr. Khan would like you to take. It’ll help with the pain and also help you sleep better. How about if I give it to you, and you can eat a little something for dinner, then maybe make an early night of it. What do you say?”

“I think that sounds like a great idea,” Louis says, laying Harry back into the bedding and lifting his chin up with his finger so he can look into his eyes.

“No,” Harry says, voice raspy, “I don’t want the medicine. I don’t want you to put me to sleep. I’m okay.”

“Hon,” I say, rubbing his leg thru the blanket, “You’re obviously still in pain. You just had a chest tube placed, over broken ribs on top of it. I know you’re exhausted; you haven’t slept more than a couple hours in a row since the night you were intubated. The medicine won’t put you to sleep; it’s not like that. It just brings the pain down so that it won’t prevent you from resting. I think once the pain is better under control, you’ll realize how tired you really are. If we can get some food in your stomach, I’ll bet you’ll sleep like a baby.”

“I agree,” Jay says, “Rest is the best thing for you right now.” She walks up to the bed and bends down, taking Harry’s hand in hers, “We’re all here for you, Love. Just let yourself relax.” With that, she leans in and kisses his forehead.

“I’ve got a little surprise for you,” Louis says, moving back over to the bags he and Paul brought in earlier, “We spotted a Panera’s while we were out, and I got your favorite, Broccoli Cheddar soup. Might have gotten a few shortbread cookies in there, too.”

Julie swaps Harry’s oxygen mask for the nasal cannula and then takes the container of soup from Louis to go warm it up in the microwave in their break room.

Anne takes the opportunity to slide back over to Harry’s side. “I know you’re not a baby anymore, Harry, but you’ll always be my baby. I’m always here for you,” she says. She puts her arms around him and gently squeezes, kissing his temple. His eyes tear up again, and he nods. She rearranges his pillows and straightens his blankets. “Would you like me to pull your hair back?” she asks. Harry nods and she gets a brush and hair band from her handbag, styling his hair into a loose ponytail.

Paul heads down to the cafeteria to see if he can gather up something for the rest of us. Julie returns with Harry’s soup and a syringe of medicine. Louis takes the soup and she injects the pain killer into Harry’s IV line after checking his vital signs. She stays in the room for a few minutes just to make sure he doesn’t have an adverse reaction to it. We can all see him start to relax as the medication starts to take affect.

Paul returns with a variety of snacks just as Louis sits down to help Harry with his soup. He starts the tea kettle as we make our selections from the tray.

“Promise me you’ll snuggle in with me when we’re done,” Harry says with a sleepy drawl.

“Of course, Love,” Louis says, looking fondly at Harry as his eyes begin to droop, “Looks like we better get you started or you’re likely to drift off right into your soup bowl.”

“Will not,” Harry mumbles, but a big yawn betrays him, “Might be a little tired.”

Louis smiles as he begins to spoon feed Harry, “It’s alright, Pumpkin,” he teases, “I’ve got you.”


	18. A Long Stay

We settle into various seats around the room, trying to make light-hearted conversation, but of course we're all sneaking glances at Harry. Even with the increased pain medicine, every movement brings a shock of pain.

Julie comes in to check on us and brings along another nurse she introduces as Amy. She will be taking over for the night shift until Julie returns in the morning.

The Respiratory Therapist stops in for a breathing treatment, but offers to return once Harry is done eating.

“You can just do it now,” Harry says, “I’m done.”

“Oh no, Love,” Louis chides, pointing to the soup with the spoon in his hand, “Let’s finish this up, then you can have your treatment and head off to bed.”

“We can head off; you mean we,” Harry huff’s out, “You promised.”

“Yes, we,” Louis nods, “I’m keeping my promise.”

The simple act of eating is wearing Harry out. He has to take a break between bites to catch his breathe, and the effort is causing him to break a sweat.

“Why don’t you save some,” Jay suggests, trying to sound casual, “Have a kip and then see how you feel about more.”

Louis looks at her, a little confused, then glances at me and I gave him a little nod.

“All right then,” he says, setting the bowl down, “Go ahead and give him his treatment now, and I'll get us set up for bed.”

The Respiratory Therapist starts setting up Harry's treatment as Louis gathers up the wrappers and cups around him. He looks over at me and glances towards the table by Paul. I take his hint, taking Jay and Anne's cups and trash and heading over behind him.

Anne slides back over to Harry, giving Louis and I a chance to have a quick chat.

“I thought we were trying to get him to eat,” he murmurs to me, keeping his back to Harry. 

"We are, but we have to balance things carefully,” I say, “He’s getting worn out; he needs to rest a lot, too. It's going to be this way for some time.”

“What do you mean, ‘some time?’ ” he asks, “He's getting better, right? He'll soon be out of here, right?”

“Louis, I said it before, but it’s important that you understand,” I say softly, hoping Harry won’t hear, “We were lucky not to loose him the night he was intubated. If our luck holds, he’ll be out of here in a week….”

“A week?!” he echoes.

“Yes. I’d bet a month before he can fly, and only then on a carefully pressurized plane. I’d say a good six weeks before he can consistently breathe easier, and maybe 3 months before his energy level is back to normal – his asthma makes everything much more complicated,” I stress, trying to keep my voice low, “This is no cold or flu, Louis. This is serious.”

Louis looks back at Harry, pale and sweaty, struggling through the breathing treatment, holding his mother's hand.

“You just need to keep him calm and quiet,” Jay says, joining our conversation as she slowly pours water from the kettle, “Harry’s going to need us, need you, for some time to come. I think you made the right choice in telling the twins. It’s time, Louis.”

My head snaps back to Louis. “You told the twins?” I ask, incredulous.

“Yes. I told you I had a plan, “ he answers.

“What are you whispering about,” Harry mumbles from under his mask across the room.

“Nothing, Love,” Jay says, heading back to her seat, “Just thought it might be a good time for Paul to run us mums back to the hotel. Let you get some rest. What about you, Carly, you joining us?”

“No, I think I’ll stay here with the boys,” I answer.

“What do you think, Anne,” Jay says casually, “Are you about ready to head out to the hotel with me?”

Anne looks a little hesitant about leaving so soon, but takes Jay’s lead, “Do you mind, Harry?” she asks.

Harry shakes his head, still struggling with the breathing treatment. He tries to speak but ends up coughing, then grabs his side in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. Louis shoots forward to stop him from getting his fingers tangled in the chest tube.

“No, Love, careful now,” Louis says, gently taking Harry’s hand away from the tubing. I pull a pillow from the cabinet and Louis takes it, tucking it against Harry’s side. Anne stands up from her chair on the other side of the bed and rests her hand gently on Harry’s head, stroking his hair and the side of his face. We all watch silently as Harry struggles through the painful episode. Finally he opens his eyes.

“S'okay, Mum,” he finally gets out, “see you in the morning?” He says, looking up at her with watery eyes.

“Of course, Love,” she replies, her voice slightly shaking, “do you need me to bring you anything?”

He shakes his head, and then, as an afterthought, states, “Maybe some clothes to come home in? Just sweatpants or somethin'. Going to need those soon.”Anne nods, then leans forward and kisses the top of his head.

She steps back and Jay moves to Harry’s bedside, planting a little cluster of kisses on his forehead, “Sleep tight, Love,” she murmurs into his ear.

“Take care, Harry,” Paul says from his post by the door, “See you first thing. Just call or text me if you think of something you need.” He puts his arm around Anne as she slips her sunglasses over her teary eyes.

Jay gives a quick wave and the three of them quietly slip out the door.

Harry’s breathing treatment winds down, and the respiratory therapist removes the mask and replaces it with the nasal cannula with oxygen.

Louis gathers up pajama pants for himself and Harry and a clean T-shirt for himself. After the therapist clears the room, he turns to Harry. “Mind if I take a quick shower, Baby?” he asks, “I’m a bit sweaty. I don’t have to leave, I can just use your little toilet here.”

“Okay,” Harry replies, and Louis digs through the bags from earlier, finding shampoo and body wash. He walks over to give Harry quick peck and trots into the ensuite bathroom.

As the water starts running, I turn my attention back to Harry. He’s covered in a sheen of sweat, dark circles under his eyes. I go back to the cabinet by the sink and pull out a washcloth and towel, and a small basin. I fill the basin with warm water and move back to his bedside. “Can I help you wash up a little for bed?” I ask, dipping the washcloth in and wringing it out. I reach out, gently touching his face.

He nods and leans back into the pillows. “Do I look total shit?” he asks with a smile.

“Not total shit,” I tease, “Maybe just mostly shit.”

“I must look the way I feel then,” he replies, and tries to give a little laugh. I continue washing his face, then move to his hands and arms drying each area as I finish. I open his hospital gown and wash his chest and back, carefully working around the chest tube. The gown is saturated with sweat, so I remove it and pull an IV gown (with shoulder snaps) from the cabinet and carefully work it on over all the tubes and wires. Louis had already pulled out some clean pajama pants and briefs. “I’ll let Louis handle this part,” I say, setting them aside, “Would you like some tea?” Harry shakes his head, “What can I do for you?” I ask.

“Take me home,” he says quietly, “I just want to go home.”

“Wish I could, Hun,” I say, reaching for his hand, “But I’m afraid it’s going to be a little bit yet.”

His eyes pop open. “How long?” he asks, staring at me, his green eyes glassy with fever, “How much longer do you think? I was hoping I could go home tomorrow.”

“I don’t think so, Honey,” I hedge. I don’t want to have this conversation with him right now. I want him to rest, and he won’t if he gets worked up. Moreover I want Louis to be here with him, supporting him when we have this discussion. My eyes move to the bathroom door, hoping he’ll make a quick appearance. When I look back at Harry, his face is blotchy and he’s pulling on his lip.

“How long,” he says softly.

“I think we should ask Dr. Khan in the morning,” I say.

The bathroom door swings open with a burst of steam, and Louis exits, rubbing his hair. He stops short, looking back and forth between the two of us.

“What’s all this? The tension in here is so thick, you could….” He starts to joke, but Harry cuts him off.

“Do you know?” Harry asks, turning his attention to Louis, “Do you know how long I have to stay here?” Louis pauses a beat too long, and Harry catches it.

“Tell me,” he says, “Tell me right now.”

“Harry, Love….” Louis starts, moving to sit on the edge of Harry’s bed. “No, just say it!” Harry shouts, grabbing his chest in pain. He holds his breath for a minute, and then breaths out, “Tell me.”

Louis sits on the edge of the bed and gently takes Harry's hand. “Probably a week, Love.”

Harry's mouth drops opens and then closes, twice, then again. A bit like a fish out of water. “Were not trying to keep you prisoner, Love, but we have to make sure you’re all healed up. Nobody wants to stay in the hospital, Baby, but you know I’m going to stay with you, right? And Carly's here, and our mums. Pauly's standing guard as always.”

Harry's face goes from blotchy to a more solid pink. His eyes start filling with tears and then overflow, spilling down his cheeks. He brings his arm up to cover his face, and he silently chokes back sobs as he turns to his side, curling into a ball.

“Alright, alright now,” Louis coos softly, “You’re alright, Baby.” He slips under the blankets and spoons himself up behind Harry, “ Your so tired, Love, and not feeling well at all. Let me take care of you, Little One. I’ll take care of everything.” I help Louis straighten their blankets as he soothes Harry with soft whispers.

Our eyes meet and Louis softly shakes his head. He pulls Harry in as tightly as he can without hurting him, and kisses the back of his neck. After a few minutes, Harry's sobs turn to tiny hiccups, and he falls asleep in Louis' embrace once again.

I set two cups of tea within Louis' reach and turn off the harsh overhead lights. I catch Louis' attention and point to the restroom with my thumb. He nods and I gather my things and head to the shower. As I close the door behind me, I hear Louis’ begin his own lullaby for Harry. “….. You'll never feel like you're alone, I’ll make this feel like home.”


	19. Ready for It

I spend longer than usual in the shower, wondering what Louis' plan might be, and what it might mean to everyone. I absolutely support them being honest with their fans, their families and especially with themselves. I sometimes wonder if they would even know what that would look like. They're in love; it's pure and simple, and it's been pretty obvious for quite some time. Syco has done their best to instill doubt, but the truth has been apparent to anyone who actually watches them, including the majority of their fans. I really don’t think they'll have problems with fans or others in the music industry, though I know that Louis fears otherwise. It seems to me that their primary detractors will be their own management company; a group consisting mostly of narrow-minded middle-aged men. But One Direction's success has meant huge financial gains to Syco and its investors, and it could not continue without Louis and Harry. I think the boys hold more power than they believe they do.

I truly want to believe that with their families and fans behind them, management will be forced to accept whatever announcement they choose to make. I slip quietly out of the bathroom door, and I’m caught off guard to find Amy, the new nurse, standing at the foot of Harry’s bed, her back to me. Both of the boys are sleeping, and she doesn't appear to be doing anything except watching.

“Hello?” I say quietly, and she jumps, fumbling before she turns around to look at me.

“Oh gosh,” she says, “You scared me! I wanted to check on Harry, but didn't want to wake them.”

Louis stirs in the bed, rubbing his eyes, “No, it's fine,” he says, “Do whatever you need to do.”

Amy smiles awkwardly, then glances around the room and finally grabs her stethoscope. She does a quick and incomplete check of Harry’s vitals, nods and scurries out. I can't help but notice that she doesn't write anything down.

“Well that was odd,” Louis says, adjusting Harry's lanky frame against his chest.

“Maybe she's just nervous, you know, because you’re celebrities and all. Not everybody is as friendly as the nurses we’ve had so far. Anyway, we’ll get Julie back in the morning,” I shrug it off.

There's a short silence in the room, broken by the growling of Louis' stomach. We both chuckle.

“God,” he laughs, “I'm starving.”

“Well, it’s still actually pretty early. Do you want me to have something delivered? We can have it dropped off at the nurses station,” I offer, “Burgers? Pizza?”

“I'd kill for a pizza,” he answers immediately, “I’ll owe you forever.”

“You owe me forever already,” I respond, pulling out my phone. I order as a guest from the website, making sure I have enough cash. I'm taking no chances of being traced back to the hospital with a credit card or my personal profile. I step out into the hallway and head down to the nurse's station to let them know we’ll be expecting the delivery.

“Have you seen Amy?” I question one of the nurses at the desk.

“Amy…” she says, “Which one is she?” I’m a bit surprised she doesn’t know the name, but I give a brief description.

“We ordered a pizza and I just wanted someone to know,” I explain.

She nods. “Oh yes, Amy. She was brought in specifically to work with your patient. She’s not one of our regulars. I’ll let her know, but to be honest she’s only working with Harry, and she's not spending too much time at the nurses station,” she tells me, “I can keep an eye out for you.”

“Brought in specifically? Why?” I ask.

“His management company requested it, I guess. I mean, we have plenty of experience working with celebrity patients, but they insisted,” she shrugs.

My blood runs cold. I nod at her and hand her the cash. As I head back to the room my mind is racing. Has Amy been sent here to spy on us? Is she reporting back to management? If so, they’ll soon find out Louis is here with Harry. I quicken my step, as I want to get back to Louis and let him know what I've learned. We'd better start planning our response.

I pause in front of Harry's room and gently open the door. Louis is still cuddled in with Harry, one hand mindlessly sliding thru Harry's curls, the other scrolling through his phone.

“Louis, I just heard something,” I start.

“Mmm hmm?” he mumbles, his eyes not leaving his cell phone screen.

“One of the nurses down at the nurses station said that Amy was called in from some private agency to work exclusively with Harry. She said your management insisted on it,” I continue, “I’m just wondering if she’s reporting back more than his health condition.”

His hands pause for a moment, and then he continues stroking Harry’s hair, setting his phone to the side, “Not exactly the way I was planning it,” he says, “But it'll do.”

“What are you talking about, Louis?” I ask, “You know I'll support you in every way, but please let me in on this. Tell me what your plans are.”

He kisses the top of Harry's head, and finally his eyes meet mine. “I’d planned on posting something on Twitter about Harry's health, something that made it clear that I was here with him. I need to check with Harry of course, but I checked with both of our mum's, and let my sisters and Gemma know it was coming, so they would be able to respond appropriately on their own social media accounts. It meant that I needed to have that little discussion with the twins, where I admitted to lying to them about my relationship with Eleanor. They were angry at first; about the lies, not about Harry and I. They were only upset that I had allowed them to deny it for so long. I had a little group chat with the Liam and Niall when Paul and I were out. They’ve always said they would be supportive, and they didn’t disappoint me. They both plan on coming over in the next few days, when Harry is better.”

“When are you planning on doing this?” I ask.

“Better sooner than later now, I guess,” he replies, “I want to catch our management team off guard. I don’t want them waiting for it, don’t want them to be able to censor whatever media outlet catches it first. I don’t want them to go in and threaten fans who retweet or screenshot and share it. I want it to be so widespread by the time they catch it that there will be no denying it.”

“Have you decided exactly what you are going to say?” I ask.

“Pretty much,” he nods, “I want Harry to go over it of course. And maybe you can help us out. But it sounds like we best do it as soon as Harry wakes up.”

I'm still stunned. Absolutely delighted, but stunned. Louis devotion to the idea is what Harry has dreamed of all along.

A few minutes later there's a knock on the door and one of the security guards sticks his head in, then slides in holding the pizza. I had nearly forgotten I ordered it. I slid the bedside table that was holding the two tea glasses closer to Louis, opened the pizza and put a couple of pieces on one of the paper plates that came with it. Louis had a difficult time trying to figure out how to eat over top of Harry, and ended up turning half sideways to avoid dropping pizza sauce in Harry’s delicate curls.

He eats like a starving man, devouring three pieces as I nibble on my first one. Harry slumbers through it all, a testament to his exhaustion.

“Are you nervous about going public?” I ask.

“It’s funny,” he muses, “I’ve worried so long about someone finding out, spent so much time agonizing over friends and family that might accidentally spill to the press, watched Syco pay so much in bribe money and give so many fake interviews on our behalf. At this point, my overwhelming emotion is relief. I’m wondering what it will be like to just hold hands as we are interviewed, to be able to lean in and kiss him at the end of a concert, to answer honestly those questions about whether or not I’m with someone. I’m ready. Whatever comes, I’m ready.”

His phone pings with a text message, and then pings several more times. Suddenly, his phone is ringing and mine is also lighting up.

He answers his call with “Hey Niall!” and then his end of the conversation goes silent. “No, I haven't been on Niall,” He says. There’s a long pause and then “Which platform?” He asks, and reaches for my phone. I unlock it and hand it to him. I watch as he opens Twitter and scrolls. He stops on a picture that is dark and a little hard to make out from my upside down position. Then I recognize his tattoo, and Harry's curls. He scrolls a few more times and it seems my timeline is full of the same picture repeated. He closes out Twitter and goes to Instagram, finding the same result. “No Niall,” he says, “I didn't leak it. But I've got a good idea who might have. Syco brought in some special nurse that was supposed to guarantee our privacy. I guess she had a different agenda. Doesn't matter. It's not how I wanted to do it, didn't want it to look like we just got caught, but it's all right. I'll make it work. Thanks for the heads up.”

He hangs up the call with Niall and hands me back my phone. "Well, looks like the cat is out of the bag. I’ve got to change the passwords on my social media quickly. I need to lock out Syco's publicity managers or they’ll beat me to it and then post some sort of denial on my behalf.”

I watch as he logs into Twitter and Instagram, quickly changing his password and effectively taking over his own accounts.

“What about the 1D account?” I ask.

He shrugs, “As long as I post from my personal account, I don’t think anyone will worry about what is posted there.”

“What about Niall and Liam?” I ask.

“They are waiting for me to respond to the photo and post what I planned before. Then they will respond with their support,” he says.

The two of us spend a few minutes trying to figure out where the original post came from. I'm sure Amy took the picture, from her position at the foot of the bed when I came out of the shower earlier. I'm wondering now if she posted it or, more likely, if she sold it to some gossip column or media outlet.

“Here we go,” Louis finally says. He’s tracked it down to a post from The Sun. I have to admit I’m a little bit amused by this. Dan Wootton has tried for so long to disprove the Larry Stylinson theories, and now it is his own paper that is showing him up.

“Wooton will be so pissed,” I say, smirking.

“That git,” Louis smiles, “investigative journalist my ass.”

Louis uses his Twitter account to ‘like’ the original post, then finds a few fans who have retweeted it and likes their posts as well. He logs into Instagram and likes a few more posts of it there.

“That'll send the fans into a frenzy,” he laughs. He sends out a text message to their mum’s, sisters and friends, asking them to find and like the posts as well. “Might as well do it big,” he says to me.

Within a few seconds, Jay and Anne have both posted a heart under the post from The Sun, and Jay has retweeted the picture with the heading “My baby and his baby.”

“Let's get this announcement written and ready. I'd like to surprise Harry with it when he wakes up. Maybe you can take a more complimentary picture to post with it,” he ponders, “My hair looks shit in that one.”


	20. Betrayals and Decisions

Louis and I spend the next hour mulling over their announcement.

“What about Eleanor?” I say, “She’s not my favorite person, but like you said, she’s not quite the bitch she’s made out to be at times. What are you going to say about your relationship with her?”

“I’m going to say that we’re good friends. That’s a bit of an exaggeration actually, but that’s what I’m going to say. Out of respect for her mostly,” he frowns as he says it, but nods his head, “She got paid for her time, that's the truth. But I'm not going to mention that part.”

“Are you going to say that your management company forced you to hide the relationship?” I ask.

“Not directly,” he answers, “I mean, we still have to work with them; we still have a contract. But I don't want to let them completely off the hook either.” Louis scratches his scruff thoughtfully.

With this lull in the conversation, I notice that both of our phones have gone oddly silent. I unlock my screen and I'm surprised to find the posts still up, and the comments and likes by the boy's friends and family still intact. I point this out to Louis, who reaches for his own phone on the side table.

“Spooky,” he mumbles, “Nothing from management, publicly or privately.”

“No way they're just accepting this. What do you think they’re planning?” I ask.

“Hard to say,” he ponders, “But my guess is someone will be making a personal appearance soon. We’d best get this rolling. I want to have it firmly cemented in place before they have a chance to sabotage us again.”

There’s a barely audible whimper, and Harry begins to stir in Louis' arms. He reaches for his side and Louis carefully places his hand over the blanket that is covering his chest tube.

“What is it, Luv?” Louis asks softly, “are you hurting?” Harry starts to nod, but then suddenly burst into a coughing spell. His eyes shoot open at the sudden jolt of pain.

“Easy, Babe,” Louis soothes, “Slow breaths.”

I push the call light, then wonder who will answer it. Surely Amy isn’t still around. Harry continues to awaken, and Louis gently coaxes him through moving into a more comfortable position. After a few minutes, Louis looks to me and I start to the door to find a nurse. As I reach for the handle, a young man opens the door, and I block the view, uncertain of who he is.

“Hello,” he says, “I’m David; I’m one of the nurses on duty this evening. I’m sorry; the nurse that was brought in to care for Harry seems to have disappeared. Can I help you in some way?”

“Harry’s waking up and having some pain,” I say, “I was wondering why no one’s been in to check on him in a while.”

David slips into the room and logs into the computer at Harry’s bedside. “You’re right,” he says, “no one’s entered anything into his chart in quite a while, not even vital signs. He’s well past due for pain medication; let me run and get his meds and we’ll get this straightened out.”

“Leave it to Syco to put us in this position,” Louis says, his frustration showing.

Harry is becoming more agitated as we wait. He glances around the room, rubbing his eyes.

“Where's my mum?” he finally says.

“Our mums went back to the hotel, remember?” Louis asks.

Harry makes eye contact with him, and hesitates, then finally nods. David re-enters, carrying medication and followed closely by a member of the respiratory staff.

“Hi Harry,” he says, “I'm David and I'm going to take over your care tonight if that’s okay.” Harry just looks confused, but Louis nods. David starts  signs,taking Harry's vitals as the respiratory therapist starts a breathing treatment.

“Looks like you could use some pain medication,” David says, pulling up some medicine in a syringe. Harry starts to shake his head but Louis takes his hand.

“Yes love,” he says, “let's get this all back under control.” David injects the medication into Harry’s IV, then finishes taking his vital signs. He drains the port from Harry's lung, checking the measurement and color of the fluid.

“This looks pretty good,” he says out loud to no one in particular. “I’m thinking maybe another day and they’ll let you get rid of this."

Harry looks at David as he talks, and glances back at Louis. He still seems a little confused, but Louis' familiar face and tender fingers seem to calm him as the pain medication starts working. David leaves the room and returns in a couple of minutes with a new antibiotic to hang on Harry's IV pole.

“I'm not sure what you want to do here,” David says, “There’s no replacement coming from the agency as far as we know. The nurse, Amy, that you’re management hired just disappeared and never told anyone she was leaving. She sort of put a dent in Harry’s care, delaying both his antibiotic and pain medication. I’m happy to take over Harry’s care, but I feel like I need your permission to do so.” 

Lois starts nodding before David is even finished speaking, “Yes, that would be wonderful. And I should let you know that it looks like Amy sold a picture of Harry and I resting together in the bed here. I don’t know what other information she gave, but it's possible that our fans May track us here.”

“I’ll let our security know,” David says, “Have you notified your guys?” 

I practically facepalm myself. Why hadn’t I thought of this? Sitting chatting with Louis about their announcement, I had totally disregarded their safety. I’m hoping that Ann or Jay said something to Paul, but just in case, I fire off an urgent text.

“Just notified our security manager, Paul, now,” I say.

“We'll just keep an extra eye on things to be safe,” David says, “I notified his doctor about the lapse in care as well, and she's going to run in, just to check on things. She should be here in a few minutes.”

“Do you think we have anything to be concerned about?” Louis asks, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Just a precautionary measure. His temperature has come up a bit, so I would have called her anyway, but due to the lapse in care, I just want to make sure we are all on the same page.”

The respiratory therapist completes Harry treatment, removing the mask and replacing it again with the oxygen cannula. He gathers up his equipment and heads out the door. As David leaves the room, Louis and I share worried glances.

Harry is still awake, and turns to Louis. “What happened?” he murmers.

“Nothing to worry about, love,” Louis says, glancing over Harry’s head at me, “the nurse that Syco had sent over to care for you turned out to be undependable, so we are replacing her with David.”

Harry still looks confused, but seems to accept Louis' explanation. He nods and nuzzles his head back into Louis shoulder.

“How about something to drink?” I offer Harry, but he shakes his head.

“Yes hun,” Louis says, “Let’s try something. Do you want tea or water? What do you want, Babe?”

Harry shakes his head, but Louis gestures to the water pitcher so I pour a glass of ice water and hand it to him. He brings it to Harry’s lips, and Harry takes a sip. Louis kisses him gently on the temple, and continues to encourage him to drink from the glass.

A few minutes pass, and Dr. Khan enters the room. She greets us and gives us a quick smile, but looks quite frustrated. She logs into the computer at Harry's bedside, reviewing the care notes and vital signs. Finally, she pulls a chair up close to Harry’s bed side across from me.

“I think we need to have a serious talk about Harry’s care,” She says. “Were you aware that your management company had arranged for a nurse to come in to care for Harry from an outside source?” She asks.

“No, not at all. I didn’t realize that had happened until I walked down to the nurse's station and was told,” I reply.

Dr. Khan nods, “Well that makes me feel a little better. I thought perhaps you had requested it for some reason.” “No,” Louis states right away, “We've been very happy with Harry's care.”

“Then I think we'd best make some changes to Harry's consents for treatment,” She states, “As it stands right now, I have a list of people, given to the house supervisor, who can call in for information about Harry’s condition. His mother, his sister, that type of thing. I also have a list of people who are considered Harry’s decision makers; people who can approve of care options on his behalf. This is the area I am concerned about. Your management company, who is on that list, brought in staff from an outside agency without consulting anyone here. We don't have information about their credentials or qualifications, and I don't know who directly supervises them. This nurse has left us in a compromised position, creating a lapse in Harry's care which we can't afford at this stage. I need to know, who is able to make medical decisions for Harry? Does anyone have a sort of guardianship for him?”

“I do,” Louis says, “Harry’s mom gave me guardianship of him when we first moved to London because he was underage. It’s still in place. I can have documents to you within the hour.”

“By morning will suffice,” Dr. Khan says with a smile, “I’ll let the legal office know that the documents will be faxed over. In the meantime, you should know that no one else will be allowed to make any further decisions on Harry's behalf. Any questions or concerns will be run past you and it will be up to you to decide who else you want to notify. Should your management company decide to hire another nurse or make some change to his care, the request will be declined and they will be referred to you. Any changes to that will have to be authorized by you. This is a very serious position to be in Louis; are you sure you’re up to the challenge? Do you want to, perhaps, consult with Harry's mother?”

“No,” Louis says decisively, “Harry is everything to me. I don't want anyone else making choices on his behalf. I'll be here with Harry for the duration, and if there are any decisions to be made you can bring them to me.” 

I look at Louis with newfound pride. I don't know why I was ever worried about whether he would be able to handle this. Dr. Kahn leaves the room and Louis pulls Harry in closer.

“Everything's going to be fine love,” he whispers in Harry's ear.

They'll be no turning back now, and I'm glad to see that Louis is more than up for the challenge.


	21. Chapter 21

Although it was not yet dawn in the UK, Louis made a call and was immediately speaking to their lawyer. They made arrangements to have the guardianship papers Anne had given him faxed over by morning. At this point, Harry was old enough that he no longer required a guardian, but the papers would still stand in the case of medical necessity or in the event that Harry was somehow incapacitated and couldn't make his own decisions. Both applied in this case.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I ask.

“I’m ready,” he says decisively, “I know that you’ve always thought I was a pushover; that I gave in to everything that management wanted. I did it because I thought it was the best for all of us, including Harry and I. I know Harry disagreed, but it was the course of least resistance. I can see now that it absolutely wasn't what was best for Harry.”

“I’m actually wondering what management has in store for us. The fact that they’ve still made no effort to contact any of us is pretty terrifying,” I reply.

“I agree,” Louis says, “but right now, they aren't my primary concern. Harry is all that matters to me, and for the first time, I realize he needs and deserves my full attention. I always thought that I had my priorities in order, but obviously that wasn’t the case. It’s not a mistake I’ll be pushed into again.”

There is a quiet knock on the door, and David comes in. “I wanted to let you know that Dr. Khan has asked for a chest x-ray. They should be up in a few minutes to do a portable here in the room.”

Louis nods and begins stroking Harry's temple, “Are you awake babe?” He asks softly. Harry's eyelids flutter, and eventually his eyes open. He looks up at Louis' face and nods, “I’ll have to slip out from behind you so they can take your X-ray, but I’ll be right out in the hall, and I’ll be back as soon as they’re done,” Louis explains. Although we’ve been through this a couple of times now, Harry still seems oddly confused, but he nods at Louis as he starts to slip out from behind him. Harry grimaces a few times in obvious pain, but Louis works his way out from behind him and gently situates him in the bed. Louis holds his hand and softly strokes his arm as we wait for radiology.

I jump when the door cracks open again, but it's only the radiology technician. Louis and I move quietly into the hallway as he sets Harry up for the chest x-ray. Harry’s eyes follow Louis, but he doesn’t complain when we exit. 

Louis dials his phone as soon as the door shuts behind us, and in a few moments it's obvious his conversation is with Liam. “Don’t come up tonight,” he says, “It’s getting late, and anyway Harry isn’t doing so well. Why don’t you try us tomorrow morning. We haven't heard a word from management. Have you?” Louis nods as he listens to Liam's end of the conversation. He adds, “So we’ll see you in the morning then? Not too early, okay?” he nods again and ends with, “Love you, Buddy.”

“Have they heard anything?” I ask.

“Liam says he got one phone call from Jason asking if he knew I was in town and with Harry. When he told them he knew and Niall did as well, Jason hung up on him,” Louis said, “So I guess we’re all on the shit list.” 

The radiology tech opened the door and pushed his equipment back out of Harry’s room. Louis held the door open and the two of us head back in.

“Okay, Babe?” Louis asks, heading back to Harry's bedside. Harry doesn’t respond. His eyes are glassy, and a sheen of sweat covers his face.

“Harry?” Louis says, moving quickly and sitting on the edge of Harry's bed. He takes Harry’s hand and uses his other hand to turn Harry’s face towards him. Harry’s eyes roll back and his body stiffens, “Harry?! Carly, what’s happening?!”

I rush to Harry's bedside just as his body begins to spasm. “Get him on his side!” I yell at Louis, turning Harry toward me. I pull the emergency cord over Harry’s bed and quickly flatten his bed out, pulling the pillow out from under his head. “He’s seizing,” I say to Louis.

He gasps, holding on to Harry’s hand, “Just talk to him. Try to soothe him. He's going to wake up confused, maybe agitated. He might not want to be touched. Just stay calm and keep talking.” 

David bursts through the door, taking in the scene. He untangles the blankets from Harry's legs.

“Help him!” Louis shouts.

“There's nothing we can do,” David responds, “We just need to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself. Try to keep him on his side so he doesn’t choke on his own saliva. If it’s more than 3 or 4 minutes we can give him valium.” 

Harry's back arches stiffly, and his head starts jerking back in a rhythmic motion. I look at Louis, who is too stunned to speak.

“Breathe, Hun,” I say, “you’re okay.” Harry doesn’t respond. His arm suddenly swings out and strikes the bedrail. David quickly grabs the pillows and stuffs them between Harry’s body and the bed rails to prevent him from hurting himself any further. Harry's leg jerks forward, but is prevented from making contact by the pillows. The jerking motion of his head slows down, and his back seems to relax. He suddenly urinates.

Louis' eyes fill with tears, and his face is paler than I’ve ever seen it. “Is he all right?” He asks, “Harry, are you alright?” He asks again.

Harry’s eyes blink several times, as if he is trying to clear them, and a trickle of saliva runs from the corner of his mouth.

“Does Harry have any history of seizures?” David asks.

“No,” I answer, “Do you think it’s the fever?”

“Pretty sure,” David nods, “His temperature increased after the lapse in fluids this afternoon, and with his weakened state..” 

Our conversation is interrupted by a quiet whimper from Harry. He begins slowly moving, turning his head from side to side.

“Easy Baby,” Louis says, trying to stroke his hair. Harry jerks away, slapping at Louis hands.

“No,” he slurs. Louis looks shocked and hurt, and tries to reach out again.

“Wait,” I stop him, “He's just confused from the seizure. Give him a minute.” 

Harry continues to blink, and seems to be trying to focus.

“Harry,” I say quietly “Do you know where you are?” 

His eyes drift my way but he doesn't respond. “Harry? Honey you're in the hospital. Do you remember?” I try again, “You had a seizure.”

“No,” Harry says, his voice becoming clearer, “No. Lou?” He says, looking around now, trying to find Louis.

“Right here love,” Louis says, reaching out again. This time, Harry reaches out clumsily, grasping his hand.

We watch quietly as Harry tries to move his body in the bed. He begins to focus on Louis, trying to move closer to him. He reaches with the arm that had previously struck the bed rail and suddenly crumples up his face. “Oww,” he says, pulling the arm to his chest, “Ow,” he says again.

“Can I look?” David says, reaching for Harry’s arm. “No,” Harry says, shying away from David's touch and trying to slide closer to Louis. Louis gently slips his arm around Harry's chest, avoiding the chest tube as he  moves.

“Please Baby?” he says gently, “Let David see your arm.” 

Harry turns to Louis but shakes his head, “No,” he says again.

“For me?” Louis says, running his fingertips through Harry mussed curls, “Just for a second. He's here to help, Love.”

Harry looks suspicious, but moves his arm towards David. There is a welt developing across his arm, which will no doubt leave a huge bruise, but he is able to move it and there are no obvious deformities.

“We’ll get a quick x-ray,” David says, “but I’m pretty sure it’ll be okay.” 

Harry pulls his arm back, looking to Louis for reassurance. Louis nods and smiles gently. David sits Harry's bed back up. I dig quickly through Louis' bag and find clean pajama pants and under clothes for Harry. Louis gently removes Harry soiled sleep wear and uses a washcloth to clean him up. He and David redress Harry, and gently move him to the recliner next to the bed. David quickly remakes the bed. It takes all three of us to carefully place Harry back in his bed,  as his limbs are still stiff and his movements awkward. David checks the chest tube and his IV.

“I'm going to call and notify the doctor, see if she wants anything other than the X-ray of Harry's arm, just to be sure,” David states. He takes another set of vitals and then leaves the room to make his call.

Harry is looking drowsy now, still clinging to Louis' arm. His movements are clumsy, and he isn't responding to questions, other than with the occasional “No.” Louis and I switch sides of the bed, so that Harry can curl close to him without risking the chest tube. I sit on the other side, Harry's back to me, slowly running my fingernails over Harry's tight shoulders.  I know he'll be stiff and sore in the morning, adding further pain and complication to his condition, but for right now he seems content to pull himself as close to Louis as he can.

Louis' face is etched with worry, though he gives Harry a reassuring smile every time his eyes open. After a few minutes, Harry’s breathing evens out and he drifts into sleep. Louis looks over him at me.

“Now tell me,” he says, “What the fuck just happened?”


	22. Chapter 22

Louis and I pull the pillows out from around Harry as I explain the fever seizure as best I can in hushed tones so as not to wake him, though in this postictal state he would be unlikely to rouse easily. I explain that Harry’s behavior before and right after the seizure – his agitation, confusion and slurred speech, as well as loss of bladder control, were part of the process, and that he might still be somewhat confused or not remember what happened at all when he wakes. Some people are also very emotional or embarrassed afterwards. Physically, I know he’s going to be stiff and sore from his muscles tensing and spasming too; this and his newly bruised arm will add to his pain. 

Louis decides not to crawl in bed with him tonight, but rather to watch him and stay close by, making sure he stays comfortable.

We discuss calling Anne but quickly discount the idea. Neither of us really sees the point in her rushing here now. Morning will be plenty soon for more bad news.

Radiology returns and does a quick X-ray of Harry’s arm. Louis refuses to leave the room this time, his overprotective nature kicked into high gear. They find nothing but the huge bruise, which is bad enough, but thankfully no broken bones. Harry sleeps through the whole process.

We keep vigil over Harry. My suggestion to Louis, that he also try to get some rest, goes unheeded. Finally, though, he seems to doze off while leaning against Harry's bed from his chair. I take up residence in the recliner. It's almost midnight the last time I remember checking my phone.

  
When I wake up, the sun is just beginning to rise. Louis is standing in front of the window, arguing with someone in whispered hisses on his phone. He catches sight of me looking at him and covers the mouthpiece briefly, mouthing ‘Eleanor’ and rolling his eyes.

“I forgot about it!” I hear him say, “Harry’s had some serious complications, and I wasn't really….” there is a brief pause in the conversation, then “No, I’m not trying to make you look like an idiot. Look if you’re that worried, we’ll play it off as you being a good person, our very best friend, concerned about Harry and not wanting to create further stress after that horrible person posted a photo. How will that be?”

I take a peek at Harry, still sleeping, but beginning to frown in his sleep. I run my fingers over his hair hoping for a cooler temperature, but he still feels overly warm.

I glance in my bag, looking for clean clothes, and signal to Louis that I’m going down the hall to the nurses shower room. He nods distractedly and returns to his conversation.   
I slip through the door and head down the hallway to the nurses station. I speak briefly with the nurse at the desk still there from the night before. She nods sympathetically as I rub my gritty eyes and head into their shower room.

As I’m cleaning up, I’m wondering if Eleanor has said anything to Louis about Management. Have they contacted her? Have they asked her to run some sort of interference? I haven’t seen her post any more photos on social media. It would be ridiculous now of course with the photo of Louis and Harry having gotten so much attention. Obviously they are here together. My mind wanders and I enjoy the hot water longer than I planned. I realize that Louis would probably like to clean up before the onslaught of visitors starts, so I dry off and dress and start to head back to Harry's room.

As I head down the hallway, I hear shouting coming from the other end. Surely Louis wouldn’t be yelling on the phone with Harry still sleeping! Then, I feel someone running up behind me and as I turn I realize it's Louis himself.

“What are you doing out here?!” I ask.

“I thought you would be right back!” He says, “The conversation with Eleanor was getting heated and I didn’t want to wake him. What is that sound - who’s yelling?”

We both break into a jog and head for Harry's door. Louis beats me there, practically kicking the door open. I can’t believe the sight in front of me. Jason has arrived. He's standing, hands on hips, screaming at Harry who this is cowering, terrified in the bed. I lean back out the doorway and yell for security just as Louis puts himself between them. His hands meet Jason's chest and he shoves him away from Harry.

“How fucking dare you!” Louis screams, “Get out! Get away from him!”

Louis grabs the front of Jason’s shirt, half pulling, half dragging him out into the hallway, he glances over his shoulder at Harry.

“I’ve got him,” I say, heading towards Harry’s bed.

The room door shuts, and the shouting continues in the hallway. I sit on the edge of Harry's bed, straightening out his oxygen line and taking his hand in mine.

“Breathe baby, Just breathe,” I say.

“What happened?” He tries to ask, his voice raspy, “What was he yelling about? Some picture, what is he talking about?”

It occurs to me then; Harry is still completely in the dark about the blow up on social media. I really wanted Louis to be the one to tell him, partly because I thought it was better for him to hear it that way and partly because, if I’m honest, I’m afraid of how he'll respond. But right now, he is hardly breathing, nearly holding his breath even with the oxygen on, and shaking all over. All I can think about is whether the stress will trigger another seizure.

“Harry, love, you have to breathe. You had a really bad night and you have to take it easy,” I try to reason.  
“A bad night?” he wheezes, “I don’t remember….”  
He looks around the room, rubbing his face. “I don’t….. I can’t…..”  
Just then, David pushes his way into the room, and I get a brief glimpse of Louis and Jason both shouting at security in the hallway.

“I’m so sorry he got past our people!” David says, “There was a shift change and a bit of confusion; a new nurse is coming on but I could see Harry’s heart rate racing on the monitor at the nurses station. I'm so sorry Harry!”

“He's... He's our manager. I think he's allowed to come in?” Harry says, looking towards me.

“There've been some changes, love,” I say, “Louis has taken back his guardianship rights, and he’s the only one who can say who comes in now. Jason has to get past Louis to get to you.”

Harry's eyes flick from David to me. He's obviously still confused, but starting to understand the gravity of the situation.  
“Guardianship? But I'm an adult now,” he says.

“It's because of your medical condition,” I explain, “He's able to make medical decisions for you, just like he would have been able to when you were underage. It's because of your health right now, Hun. You were really confused last night and you just wouldn't have been able to make your own decisions. The doctor spoke to Louis, and the papers were sent over by your London lawyer this morning.”

“What happened last night?” Harry asks, “I don't really remember, I mean I don't understand…. It's all sort of jumbled up in my head.”

David and I exchange glances and then he starts to answer. “Your fever got too high, Harry,” David explains, “It caused you to have what we call a fever seizure. I’m sure that your muscles are very sore this morning and you have a bruise on your arm from where it struck the bed rail. We have to try to keep your fever down, and keep your stress levels lower, so it doesn't happen again.”

“A seizure?” Harry’s eyes widen and fill with fear. His breathing speeds up, and David shakes his head.

“I know it’s a scary thought, Harry, but as long as we can keep things under control, there’s no reason to think it will happen again,” David says calmly, “But you’ve got to try to keep yourself calm. I know all this stress with your management company makes that nearly impossible, but we really have to try for the sake of your health. That’s why your fiance has taken over your care decisions. We are all working together to try to do what’s best for you at this time.”

Harry starts chewing on the side of his finger, a habit he's had under stress for years. He glances up at me and I reach out to rest my hand on his shoulder. He nods a little, and suddenly the door opens. Louis walks through, and though there's no screaming, the tension is beyond intense.

“Carly, I need you to come with me and talk to Jason,” he says, “You're better at explaining the medical part of this. He's waiting in the family meeting room down the hall.”

He turns his attention to Harry now. “I’m sorry baby, I really don’t want to leave you alone right now, but I have to tell Jason something to get him out of here and away from you. I'll make it as quick as I can my love, and then I'll come back to you and we'll talk about what happened last night. I promise you, everything's going to be alright. Just please don't let yourself get worked up over this. Your body just can't take it.”

David agrees to stay in the room with Harry until we return. “I've already contacted Paul,” Louis says, “He's on his way. He'll make sure we don't have any further incidents like this.”  
Louis walks swiftly across the room and gently sits on the edge of Harry’s bed. He wraps his arms around him, then pulls away slightly to kiss his forehead. Harry buries his face into Louis neck, and Louis rocks him back and forth for a few moments. “Just a few minutes Harry, and I promise we’ll be right back.”

He breaks their embrace slowly and stands up, then bends down one more time to kiss the top of Harry’s head.

“All right Carly,” he says, “Let’s get this over with.” 


End file.
